25 October 2009


Our tapenade is full
of oil & olives & capers
& clouds drunk on magic.
Our chowder runs thick
with cream & clams,
dreams & calm and mystery.
Your meals drizzle & dazzle
and I long to drown in
the gift that is dinner--
fevered tomatoes, 
onions loud with moon,
fennel drenched in lust
and wine that lingers lazy & wild in the mouth--
I am a mesclun muse always chanting "More!"
for I know your cooking never lies.

PROMPT: Magnetic word tiles selected on the basis of what appealed to me that day. (I have LOTS!)

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