Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Folie Dans La Cuisine

The broken souffle was rapidly collapsing
She had hoped it would climb to such heights
that the man in the moon would smell it
and crave a bite
Now, it appeared on the precipice of disaster
and with it, her belief that she could master
the cryptic nuances of fancy French cuisine
She had been so hopeful,
her carriage unusually confident
as she leveraged the pan
from counter to oven
and lovingly thrust her creation into the warmth
As the souffle rose,
so did her self-worth
The doubts that had peppered her mind
became calypso drumbeats of excitement
She observed the edges brown,
slightly, like the first tan of summer
She knew it was time
Gently, she opened the oven door
Grasped her masterpiece with gloved hands
Set it on the table
The oven slammed shut
like a clubhouse door in her face
She was unwelcome here
An outsider
She removed her stained apron
shook her head
stepped outside
listened to the quiet song
of the crickets,
then dialed for pizza delivery.


submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Get Listed, Of Catnip and Moons


hedgewitch said...

Love where the words took you LM--you'd have to put a gun to my head before I'd try cooking a souffle--and of course, the ending is perfect, and tasty. ;_)

Helen said...

Drats! I hate it when that happens ... nicely done, Mouse.

Kay L. Davies said...

Delicious poem, Ms Mouse. The old advertisements make me think of my mother when she was a young wife. They had to be pretty and perfect despite colds, sore throats, three children and a pregnant spaniel.

Marcoantonio Arellano (Nene) said...

Love this reflection especially the sound of the oven door slamming. I recall my mother's old oven whose door had the strongest spring because it would slam even when not intended. She would sometimes cry, spanish tears, because her pie crust would drop after the oven door slammed shut unintentionally('sniffle').

Very nice, mi amiga

Wolfsrosebud said...

I can relate with all the cooking I've done... nice

Brian Miller said...

smiles...pizza delivery...she cooks like me...i am fine with sauces and a few things but a souffle, i would not even know where to begin....

Timoteo said...

As the souffle rose/so did her self- worth...

Love that. Clever poem with the perfect ending...yeah, after you've done all that you can do, screw it and send out for pizza!

Looks like you utilized most of the words on my list--great job!

Marian said...

oh, love this! hah.

not displayed said...

Been there, done that, although in my case it was the Cheesecake shop after a Pavlova distaster

Ella said...

Wow-so many great lines and reflections in this recipe! Damn oven door-I have always wanted to attempt a souffle! Fun to read~ :D