“you ate”

you ate my heart for breakfast

between nearly burnt rye toast butter drenched

and paprika speckled potatoes

you ate my heart

bloody rare. salted

you ate

without knowing

my heart

like any common over easy egg

washed down with bitter black coffee


  1. Meg said,

    September 17, 2011 at 12:29 am

    What Leslie said. Love the poem!
    …like any common over easy egg….
    washed down with bitter black coffee.

    anyone who would eat your heart thinking you were anything but a ptarmigan egg would be a fool.

  2. lesliepaints said,

    September 15, 2011 at 4:29 am

    Oh, I love it when you write like this!

  3. September 14, 2011 at 9:54 am

    Now THERE’S a cheery image! Ha! Seriously, that’s an evocative piece of writing. I think we’ve all been there.

    • September 14, 2011 at 1:30 pm

      Greetings Melissa–you connected with this poem it seems. Oh yes, “cheery” indeed. But who needs cheery? Right? Cheery would fly in the face of reality in America. OOps. Probably ought not talk about “reality” at all….lol.

  4. September 13, 2011 at 10:30 pm

    Brilliant poem (it seems familiar – did you post it a long time ago) that contrasts the everyday with the extraordinary.

    • September 14, 2011 at 1:27 pm

      Hi Gabrielle. No, it’s not an old poem. It’s brand spanking new. Thanks for the “Brilliant.” Perhaps it seems familiar because as Melissa wrote “we’ve all been there”?

      • September 14, 2011 at 10:16 pm

        Definitely reminds me of something similar you wrote a couple of years ago that involved breakfast 🙂 – not the same one, but along the same lines I suppose.

  5. September 13, 2011 at 10:55 am

    Beautiful! And who doesn’t enjoy a cup of black coffee? 😉

    • September 14, 2011 at 1:33 pm

      Incompletehistory—I’m not quite sure how to take that coffee comment in relation to the poem. Hmm.Thanks for visitng. Hope the editing hasn’t driven you over the edge yet. Or has it?

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