“What food my lips have touched, and where, and why”

(With deepest apologies to Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1892 – 1950  “What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why (Sonnet XLIII)” Honestly, go read the poem. I probably should be tarred and feathered for this. Forgive me, I’ve been ill.)

What food my lips have touched, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what victuals have lain
In my belly till morning; but my body
Is full of shudders tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the bowels and listen for reply,
And in my head there stirs a quiet pain
For undigested meals that again
Will return to me at midnight with a cry.

Thus in kitchen stands the lonely icebox,
Nor knows what treats have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its doors more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that a chile relleno sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.

  1. Oh my gosh, I love this poem more than I love chile rellenos, and that’s a lot.

    Liked by 1 person

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    1. Thanks! I used to write parodies when I was in college (Weird Al type stuff). It’s been a while. I had forgotten how much fun I had doing it. Perhaps I will do it more often. ;)

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  2. Best ode to food poisoning I’ve ever read.

    Liked by 1 person

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  3. Genius! Sorry you were sick; highly entertained at the resulting verse.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Thank you! Glad to be feeling better.

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