Short Blowtorch Poems

Culinary resonations my senses please
Blowtorch trimming the tapering of cheese 
Cremated lactations dance on the fan’s breeze
Crab forks impaling young peas 
Lightly dusting salt of the seas
Grindings of exotic teas
Marinades my taste buds tease...

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Blowtorch to a closed mouth
til it opens for a scream,
then the torch is forced down 
the throat, now gurgling. 
Burnt and broken black teeth,
Jagged to the touch,
Scrape, revealing sheen,
In scars they leave on rust.
Back and forth the torch thrusts,
Perverse in his scheme,
Finally he found lust,
Just to wake from a dream....

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I used to yearn for the sun like a tiny sprout trying to break free from the earth

Shivering in the icy winds of grey winter

Longing for the warming touch of spring

And when spring finally arrives with all her fanfare and elation,

her warm touch turns to a blowtorch of summer; scorching my tiny leaves and sucking all the moisture from my roots

I now long for the cool breeze of autumn

A respite from the rotting heat of summer

Have yet to find that happy medium...

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