Spice Travel

After my leftover fish 
exploded in the microwave
like a rover crash-landing
on the furnace of Venus,

still hungry,
I sent a deep space probe
to the nether reaches
of the refrigerator.

What is that growing, glowing nebulae
back there
in the vegetable drawer?
Alien life!

Potatoes sprout eyes that ogle carrots
with bad intent,
kale uttering in accents
the vernacular of dirt.

Tabby cat mushrooms
curled up asleep,
manic beets fantasizing
Broadway success.

Spinach blindfolded and
walking the plank
Into Popeye’s
waiting mouth.

And the fruit!
Pear leopards pouncing
on blueberries
madder than hatters,

clementines
mixing metaphors
and recipes
for disaster.

As the door swings closed
rage, rage against the dying of the light!
Oh ye broccoli of stalks,
ye Brusselsed sprouts –

Abandon hope
all ye who enter here.
The spice man cometh.
Oh yes, oh yes he does.

For Shay’s Word Garden

(With apologies to Dylan Thomas, Dante Alighieri, and Eugene O’Neill).

10 thoughts on “Spice Travel

  1. Potatoes sprout eyes that ogle carrots
    with bad intent,
    kale uttering in accents
    the vernacular of dirt.

    That’s just brilliant – what a delicious image – not that I’m saying I’d want to eat any of the contents – and hilarious – what an unexpected poem! Cheers 😀

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’d just sat down to my coffee and clementine breakfast, hadn’t gotten to your clementine reference yet, thinking I should comment on this fine work. Then I got to your reference and felt even more on the same plane. Thanks for sharing this outstanding work!

    Liked by 1 person

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