In the kitchen, a bowl so dull
with an owl in a pole, the color of coal,
like the moles in my skin – the ones you patrol
like a police man in the mall,

I stole. I stole.

Tonight, let’s make a casserole
with these feelings that make us whole.
I’m on parole, or so I was told.
Let’s stroll the kitchen floors
with our feet, with our bare soles.
Let’s steam the night,
let’s go out of control
like a troll, like a spring roll
in your tongue, like a cinnamon roll
being cut, like an egg roll in a bowl,
like the Superbowl, we are young.
Let’s sing our unsung love song.

Oh, you extol my soul.

Written by: Lucero L.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s