The Sensual Side of Spaghetti Squash
Rake your fingers
across my ribs
as you stroke my flesh.
Do it with a bit of sauce,
but don’t stop there.
Squash your inhibitions.
Not too cheesy. Just enough.
Let me feel your tongue
as we take it all the way.
Let me know this once-
This is my response to Day 20 at napowrimo.net,
where we are asked to write a poem “that anthropomorphizes a kind of food.”.
Image source: The Daily Meal
Many years after my mother’s passing, I got a hankering for her apple cake. I remember it as a single layer of spice cake in a rectangular pan, with apple slices upright in three rows, from end to end. I searched online for apple cake recipes, and ended up combining two recipes to get a cake that tasted just as I remembered, but with the apples stirred into the batter.
My mother always baked from scratch, and it finally dawned on me to ask my sister if she had my mother’s recipe. She sent a photo of the original recipe card, and there were distinct differences from my final recipe, so I didn’t waste any time trying my hand at the original. It had been fifteen years since I’d had my mother’s apple cake, but I knew I would never forget that taste.
Unfortunately, mine did not taste the same, and it occurred to me that my mother had made that cake since I was a child, and she probably hadn’t bothered to look at that recipe for years and years. Fortunately, I came up with a recipe that reminds me of her cake, so now I’ll try making it with the apple slices in rows. Maybe I can pass that recipe on to my children.
rows of fruit trees in orchard
apple falls from tree
This haibun is my response to Poetics: Looking for Sustenance from Lisa at dVerse.
Image: Apple orchard in Olcott, Niagara County, New York, October 2010