Ode to the Pumpkin
I had a perfectly lovely dinner tonight,
Sitting by the window, alone in my sweater
I had a bowl of pumpkin soup,
a sad melancholy color, the flavor
poignant as it spread on my tongue.
I thought of the jolly pumpkin, with a persimmon blush
Who had offered up seeds to roast, just last week.
Then was off holding small votives
as our gap-toothed lantern.
with a jaunty fedora and a glimmer in his eye!
greeting dinner guests, at the top of the porch
winking at pretty women in their woolens and scarves
He was cooked on low, languishing in the oven
I could smell the browning juices as they skittered across the pan,
Pooling in the trenches of the speckled black enamel
And as his flesh softened and his tender skin gave way,
All at once, that dashing fellow, collapsed in the heap.
I cut away a section and there rose a final gasp
Steam -scented like a man, clean and fresh from the sauna
I scooped orange tissue from his lined & peeling hide, and
stringy organs lifted from his now deflated belly
Soup ingredients simmered in the pot, indistinct and melded
The wide-mouthed vessel swallowed the pumpkin mash
no more jolly fellow,
sporting a fedora,
Comingled as he was
with onion, apples & broth- blended
splendid! With a splash of cinnamon and what was that?
Cardamom. Ah! Lovely my dear, just the thing!