Listen to poem:
A Potpourri Chowder of Diphthongs
A symphony of spoons,
a poised poke of fork quartet prongs,
the clatter of knives
resounding, rebounding
in a chamber of diphthongs.
The boil and sizzle of oils,
crisping the chips, tempura and pakora to brown.
so biting the crust
makes the cracks ring out loud,
then softens to an ooze.
the slow chewing flows
into a sing-along song,
as the tongue savors the juicy flavors.
A slice of ripe lime, bright green
a gentle, slow pour of warm wine,
draws out two vowels to sound as one
as the mouth rounds on every morsel.
The steam sighs, rising up in spirals,
from the feast that hums and mumbles, low and strong.
Each bite a voice unfolding—
a choir of chew and tongue, sung
savoring the diphthongs
in each mouthful of potpourri chowder.
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