For
my birthday, she brandished
one long, bony finger,
summoned me in-
side, sidled be-
side my hungry
taste
buds,
slathered my platter
with exceptional brownies,
crafted under super-
vised care
of knobby knuckles
& one loose stringy
gray hair. Her smile revealed
one tooth had gone missing,
dotted out by a smear
of chocolate frosted inking.
She nodded & asked,
“How do you like them, dear?
Do you feel funny?”
I confessed I’d never
been a consumer
of nature’s sedatives
or potions.
She said, “Silly, that’s not
what I meant. These goodies
were assembled
with some of my friends
who couldn’t escape,
so I stirred them right in.
For your birthday all year,
remember this adage of three—
see no weevils,
hear no weevils,
speak no weevils—
because they’ve departed,
gifting you with pure
unadulterated
protein & a message
from beyond."
Live life to the fullest
even if that means
hiding undercover
in somebody’s
cupboard in a sack
of flour—cowpea,
granary, or rice.
Pick your poison,
for the fate
of our family tree
foretells
that no matter your vice,
you’ll never live twice.
summoned me in-
side, sidled be-
side my hungry
taste
buds,
slathered my platter
with exceptional brownies,
crafted under super-
vised care
of knobby knuckles
& one loose stringy
gray hair. Her smile revealed
one tooth had gone missing,
dotted out by a smear
of chocolate frosted inking.
She nodded & asked,
“How do you like them, dear?
Do you feel funny?”
I confessed I’d never
been a consumer
of nature’s sedatives
or potions.
She said, “Silly, that’s not
what I meant. These goodies
were assembled
with some of my friends
who couldn’t escape,
so I stirred them right in.
For your birthday all year,
remember this adage of three—
see no weevils,
hear no weevils,
speak no weevils—
because they’ve departed,
gifting you with pure
unadulterated
protein & a message
from beyond."
Live life to the fullest
even if that means
hiding undercover
in somebody’s
cupboard in a sack
of flour—cowpea,
granary, or rice.
Pick your poison,
for the fate
of our family tree
foretells
that no matter your vice,
you’ll never live twice.
 |
| Granny's Special-Ingredient Brownies |
For today’s prompt, write a poem of threes. Your poem could be about the number three or feature three of something, for sure, but it could also do some other things. For instance, your poem could be composed of tercets (or three-line stanzas), have three syllables per line, or be a three-line poem (like a haiku or lune). Or write about tricycles or triangles or any number (though mostly the number three) of other plays on three.
* * *
