Wednesday, June 24, 2009

For Cecile and Vincent


Camembert house

after they all left,
picnic baskets loaded in the car,
blankets left behind, folded neatly
on stripped beds, water and electricity
turned off, the Camembert
continued to ripen in the lower
left hand drawer of the refrigerator,
for two months, maybe three,
the smell blooming to fill
not only the drawer, but the
whole refrigerator, impregnating
every miniscule crack, every pore
with Camembert of the strongest
variety so that when they came back,
so jubilant, ready to fill the refrigerator
with the delectable goods they had
just purchased, the house fell silent
as everyone held their noses
and then burst out laughing.

.

1 comment:

Cecile said...

I dedicated your poem to my uncle !
CEcile