This poem is from my book, A New Dish
A New Dish
My words call out to me
like Thanksgiving leftovers
in the kitchen
late at night
nudging me awake
begging me
to mix them up
put them in a pretty dish
and devour them.
They ask me
to taste them
feel them in my mouth
smell their goodness
wrap my tongue around
their flavor.
They tell me
to enjoy them
now, in the moment,
before another year passes
and I’ll have different words
to prepare
in a new dish.
More Poetry Books by Cherie Burbach:
