What can match the flesh
of fresh baguettes when morning
bursts through the bakery door
and shadows roam the loaves?
At 6 am, every Paris roof’s rising.
Pores do for the dough what
bubbles did for champagne.
You say you’re done with hunger
and gain; you’re finished wielding the knife.
How will you spread the butter?
.
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14 comments:
They don't use butter on bread hereabouts,despite it being the dairy capital of France. It always seems like a punishment to have to eat dry bread! As for baguettes, my old teeth can't cope with all that crust. But your poem is terrific!
I love baguettes, nice descriptions here.
Pamela
Yummy... I love bread! I really like this line:
Pores do for the dough what
bubbles did for champagne.
Well tuned piece - excellent imagery. Ah, the joy of fresh baquettes.
i love this line: "At 6 am, every Paris roof’s rising."
I like the shadows roaming the loaves... Beautiful work.
I love your sweet little baguette, S. Every line's a treasure. Nobody writes like you. You remain my goddess.
My mouth was watering at the descriptions. Excellent poem! Baguette is one of my favorite foods - crispy, chewy crust, and that matchless flesh. I too liked the line about pores doing for dough what bubbles did for champagne. I like the ending/ the metaphor.
Oh, you have engaged my carb cravings. Love the last line/question.
thanks for reading all. I thought I had said this, but my comment is not here. it has put on the ring and vanished!
'and shadows roam the loaves...'
That, friend, was brilliantly stated. The rest was good, but that was brilliant...
A great panegyric to the unique baguette! 'Pores do for the dough what / bubbles did for champagne'. The key line.
Love the shadows roaming the loaves...and it made me really hungry.
None can match. It's clear. :-)
I can't pick one favorite line or couplet. They are complete of themselves, yet as a whole they are again so much more.
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