xxvii. the brewing of a chicken stew

2 0 0
                                    



The    warmth
      of     this
           manmade   dinner
coaxes   me
      to dine     with golden
             spoons   and
puppeteers
           as     I succumb
      to       the fragrance
            of  the
   tangible    bouquet
        filled     with   orange  fruits
                    and
  carnivorous appetites
           while   it
brews  underneath
           the shallow
     lines      of
            this rapid    tempest
of                despair
         and          homely
    gestures that
momentarily
stun the silence of this house
by carving
it into
an
intricate abundance of
tooth-glimpsing gaiety
and this
fashion of
visceral happiness
creates a
foreshadowing of
rhythms that
hit the translucent glass
in steady beats,
causing
the earth to crack
while constellations
overflow
from its crevices,
and this
is such
a beauteous dinner that my eyes
have lived to
glimpse.

╺╸╺╸╺╸╺╸╺╸╺╸╺╸╺╸╺╸

felt inspired when I made some chicken stew for my family on Saturday 9 November, 2019.

an abstract limnWhere stories live. Discover now