Sunday, May 4, 2008

The Son


He forgot Grandmom.
Her throat so parched
It started puckering
Seared away at the edges
Like the rim of a fried egg
Pulling away from the hot pan.
Uncle Nate is on the pipe again.

2 comments:

Jean Lee said...

i like the rim of an egg part. i've never thought of describing something that way, though i've fried many an egg. mmm. eggs...hm...excuse me for a moment.

Unknown said...

WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME ABOUT THIS?!

opignbo