Home > Poetry > Down but not out

Down but not out

Staring at the last rib on my plate,

surrounded by is brothers, gnawed down to the very marrow,

I was sure I was done.

I took a sip of sweet tea (with a little lemon and bourbon), and began to toss my napkin onto the table,

like a corner man, who realizes his champion is done, and throws in the towel.

As I made this motion,

very slowly (being half drunk, and on the verge of a pork fat coma),

I was overwhelmed by the sweet aroma of hickory,

Queen of hardwoods,

no siren could ever draw a man with her song,

as swiftly or completely.

I was invigorated by the scent,

just as a boxer is stirred to give it another go by his corner man’s smelling salts,

I turned upon that rib,

determined to finish what I started.

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Categories: Poetry
  1. May 24, 2010 at 7:35 am

    You don’t have a thing for barbeque, do you? 😉

    I like this. It got some good images. A lot of smells; I like that!

    Nice job!

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