Wednesday, 28 March 2007

Off The Menu by Mike McCulley

Every joint has its specialty,
a signature tune recorded in Chicago
in nineteen forty-six, a cranberry-lime drink
mixed by a barkeep named Aurelya,

a baked quail recipe discovered
in the archives of an ancient medical library,
written on the walls of a Buddhist temple,
a secret recipe passed down

from Great-Grandma Nettie, with ingredients
from an herbalist in eastern Oregon,
from a secret stash in Louisiana,
flown in from Kaktovik.

Put away the menu, Aurelya,
serve up your best dish,
make your best moves.

Mike McCulley, Montesana, WA, USA


Anonymous said...

Great lines, I like the "Buddhist Temple" one.

Crafty Green Poet said...

I really enjoyed this poem too. Blame the earlier lack of comment on lack of home internet connection, oversights couldn't be corrected immediately. We now have the connection back, thankfully.