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Rated: E · Poetry · Food/Cooking · #2206151
Back to eating Mama’s cooking.
He
stood
halfway
up the stairs,
looked at his
mother and said:
“I’m so glad that I
can eat at home today.”
Because home is where
penne pasta reigns supreme,
with homemade sauce, and salad
fresh with romaine lettuce, cucumbers
red tomatoes plump and juicier than rain.
I have no want for pokey food, that bread
and water regimen, with burly jailers
waving Whoppers and fries in front
of me until I cried…Mama, I have
come home to savor brownies
warm as love generations
old, your homemade
wedding soup that
satisfies me like
an old world
lullaby…

…that hoosegow chow
sustains one’s life, yet
living is the food that
Mama makes!  You
might notice that
I’ve lost weight.



30 Lines
Writer’s Cramp Winner
11-22-19

Mangiare (man‧già‧re)...to eat (Italian)
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