Home > Poetry > Garlic Dread

Garlic Dread

Once I loved the sharp bite of the stinking rose,

minced fine and added to my tomato soup.

Now I drink hot blood,

straight from the jugular,

and crack open bones,

for a marrow chaser

tasty as they are,

I would gladly trade

them and my ill-gotten immortality,

for one last taste of ma mere’s aioli.

Categories: Poetry
  1. July 11, 2010 at 7:27 am

    LOL….this one has a twist and I loved it!! Keep them coming…it’s just awesome!!…Enjoy the weekend 🙂

  2. July 11, 2010 at 7:43 am

    Terrific. I blinked at stinking rose, and then remembered that garlic is part of the lily family – one of those weird botanical connections. Your mother’s aioli was surely a treasure.

  3. July 11, 2010 at 2:41 pm

    This is awesome! Clever, fun, engaging. You nailed it. Bravo! Bravo!

  4. July 11, 2010 at 5:40 pm

    What fun and word pleasure stir this short piece – love it!

  5. b_y
    July 11, 2010 at 8:50 pm

    Never thought about that aspect. What do the poor vamps do with all those garlic seasoned cajuns?

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