APRIL IS THE POETRY MONTH

It's here again, National Poetry Month, along with one of my favorite daily practices, the "poem-a-day-for April." There are some good websites out there offering daily prompts if you need inspiration; two I like are Robert Lee Brewer's "Poetic Asides" blog,  http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides, and NaPoWriMo,  http://www.napowrimo.net/, but I'm sure a google search would turn up others.

To be honest, I haven't gotten off to a roaring start this April, producing rough drafts at best and nothing at all yesterday, though I'm a bit happier with this morning's effort, responding to NaPoWriMo's prompt to write a food poem. I'm not ready to call it a finished product, but I've decided to share it anyway, and I'd be very interested in any comments you might care to make. Interpretations? Observations? Anything?

Last night I dreamed about meringue.

Not delicate little cookies, not billowy

oversweetened clouds atop a

lemon pie. No, this meringue filled

a big Rubbermaid storage bin,

and the more I scooped into a

normal-sized bowl, the more what was left

swelled, threatening to overflow

its blue plastic boundaries.

I couldn’t keep up. There was no

time to stir in the vanilla, no time

to taste, to see if it needed more sugar.

How many egg whites were in it?

Some number beyond my comprehension.

On the counter a pan of little tarts

awaited their topping.

They didn’t need much. Two eggs’ worth, tops.

So where did it come from, all this stuff?

And why did it keep growing?

I knew if I stopped scooping

it would inflate, expand, balloon

over the sides, onto the floor,

filling the kitchen, then the house,

then squeeze out through the cracks around

the doors and windows, up the chimney,

down the drains, cover the yard and

flow out into the street, condemning

everything and everyone in its path

to sugary suffocation.