If Alone Has A Flavor
Some sort of tinned fish. Check.
Udon noodles ready in five minutes.
Check. The peanut oil. Yes.
Sesame seeds shaken like snow. Oh, yes.
And sea salt from a small caddy in flakes,
sun packed inside like energy in atoms.
It won’t end. What won’t end? This life
we feel’s always about to end, waking
at night sensing how hard the bed,
how small the heart and its beating.
An ongoing action. Inside like a weevil
in a nut, the idea it won’t rain tonight.
All these mouths open at the sky
getting nothing but starshine.
It tastes of wintermint, but you knew that.
źródło: Read A Little Poetry
10.09.2026