Posted in Cooking, Poetry, Prose

I Bit My Lip

I bit my lip
wanting it to feel
the sting, the retort
not denying it
what my hands felt
as I gathered the
burning nettles
of my morning soup,

Alas, alas
those green devils
losing their bite
when meeting
the boiling water
denying others
the numbing feelings

I considered then
a bit of salt
to rub into
the wound
thus making the recipe



Just an American lost in Denmark. The past few weeks being back in the good old USA. It is like Aliens have taken over my mind, changing it from what I knew to what I know. It might be the heat, or it might be the influence of hearing English 24 hours a day, but whatever the cause, it is only temporary while dealing with this time and space.

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