Dumpty

~ qbit 
My wife said to chop some thyme I heard time –
hew the woody stems off years, months diced 
in one inch cubes then tossed by day with olive oil 
on a sheet pan, mince hours into dill, chill seconds.

My alarm at this recipe for disaster, this word salad
history – citrus Renaissance bitters; crisp, apple fall
of the Roman Empire; the blade whacking out French 
Revolution Dressing: Robespierre & raspberries.  

Maybe a steel grater better than a knife –
risk my finger tips and childhood quietly sliced
Into impossible radish backstories, peeling potatos
or skinned knees, carrots, not I, lacking nerve 

to ask for a dance in 7th grade. Then what will make 
me whole again, spin my life into a single yarn
from wool roving. Who will put me together again,
me oh Humpty Dumpty my.

For Shay’s Word Garden

8 thoughts on “Dumpty”

  2. Time’s concoctions — What a dish, creative, wholesome, dangerous and challenging! But always a puzzle, being put back together again in the mind’s eye. Or so I read this witty, philosophical/culinary poem. 🙂

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