Winter rain splats like an egg
in a cold frying pan.
This morning my mind
is refrigerated, congealed,
a rictus of cheap margarine –
I scoop fat substitute thoughts
with a spatula. They splat in the pan too,
alongside the egg.
Isn't there meant to be
an order to things? Heat
first, then butter, then egg?
Kitchen mullions rattle
as the Nor'easter tests their strength.
The vacant house across the way –
Is this the year the windows break?
Will it give up the ghost
in a final shiver of broken glass?
Outside in the storm, as with the world,
birds have abandoned flight.
No flying south to depilate winter,
the bikini waxing of dreams –
no tweezing the snow moustache
from elderly Florida swans.
No way to take the hair
off it all.
You toss me a frozen bagel and laugh –
hardtack or life buoy
for a morning's survival,
my shipwrecked words
wash ashore this deserted island.
The rain slants, cants,
through these old portholes.
The Sunday Muse
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qbit 
I I could find one line, ONE, not worthy of high, higher, highest praise I would quote it. All I can suggest is using unsalted butter.
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Ahahahahaha! Yep. Thanks so much. To quote my wife: “God almighty, what are you doing in here? Give that to me! Get out of the way.”
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I threatened that many a time.
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There is something about this that I just LOVE!
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So glad! LOL!
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Bikini waxed dreams….that is going to stick with me….no pun intended. LOL…So much I love about this Qbit! Shipwrecked words…well that is downright gorgeous, and I think all writers can relate! Amazing word craft as always!!
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Thanks!
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…I like the hirsute elderly Florida swans ..LOL…You do shipwrecked word poetry very well:)
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Lol! Thanks!
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I loved the beginning, totally reeled me in, and the rest of the poem lived up to the hook.
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Thank you!
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Lovely long introduction from the kitchen – “a rictus of cheap margarine –
I scoop fat substitute thoughts
with a spatula”
oh goodness that sounds more like my thoughts – yours melt and flow regardless of snow storms when even the birds are grounded and in the midst of it all, just a peep across the way to the image prompt.
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LOL! When I started out, I had zero response to the prompt. Nada. No hint of any way forward. Horrible. The worst.
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“Will it give up the ghost
in a final shiver of broken glass?”
I could actually see the house shivering and breaking apart.
Great write, q!
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