- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Canning Mr. Wrong
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I bought six dozen Balls
(pint size jars, of course)
with lids and rings
and did not forget the brine.
He loved the taste of salt.
One, two, three tablespoons
pickling salt,( per jar)
crushed red pepper
and garlic for flavor
as he had no taste of his own.
As I lower the jars
into the boiling water bath
it strikes me as ironic-
his refusal to bathe, now
so clean in his final division.
But I will not rest
until I hear him cooling.
The inverted pop of the lids
that seals his fate
sets me free.
- COMMENTS
Dale_Ardenover 16 years agobut I think I would have composted him myself. Great poem. :-)
Stella_Omegaover 16 years agowho turned her husband into a set of plaid place mats...
Good recipe, too!
Anonymousover 16 years agowe have all had a mr. wrong to whom we wanted to do this - or something equally horrific. yours sounds so much prettier than what i wanted to do.. and that is the perfect touch. something so twilight zone-ish expressed poetically.. so pretty and so deadly. keep writing i love your style. slavegurl
