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Below is the poem entitled Toast which was written by poet grits biscuits. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Boring toast, ordinary white bread toast
nothing special, but, it was there...
sometimes it was all that was there
and it was a toy too
slapped around with butter
Sunbeam Bread child I was
dropping slice after slice after slice
of soft, bleached white, napkin bread
into the gleaming silver toaster
waiting for the "pop-up" moment
when the toast was expelled abruptly into the air

I remember eating toast all summer and mostly at night
in my grandmother's kitchen
until I became a little fat girl
I drank coke from the bottle until my teeth were bucked
Making toast was something to do
and eating it was something to do, too. 

The porch swing creaked as I rocked it back and forth
my legs swinging
my mouth crunching toast
My eyes looking out into the yard
I wondered what was beyond the edge of the sky. 
and who would marry me one day.

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