I Can't Find the Mustard

This sandwich is destitute 
And the dijon has expired

A miraculous vision appeared to me, a gentle lady
One who gloriously gazed on my face 
What is the life of but Art and Science?
The Shepherd's Dream? 
When there are no living to remember the dead.
God knew of the culpability
The rearrangement of kitchen condiments 
The kitchen being a cathedral of failure
Church of pie
I am the balcony in the balcony scene
And I'm exploring mental health through poetry 
Hoggish, empty, splod.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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Rodrigues Avatar
April 2, 2024 at 1:40 PM
wow, sounds like you had a loss? a spouse? My dad has much expired food in his kitchen! Somethings he will let us toss but not the proverbial mustard…not what he treasures…
Allen Avatar
April 4, 2024 at 2:18 AM
Hi Kim, your dad understands the important things. Hope you're well. xx
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