Poem: Measured

 

Measured

by Shannon Laws

 

The one cup of measure

mountained with flour

mother pulls a butter knife

from the silverware drawer

taps it on the edge of the

kitchen counter two times

Pushing the jagged peak away

onto the counter covered in wax paper

she scrapes the knife’s flat back

across the cup rim evenly

revealing a smooth, flat plain as she goes

An exact one cup of flour.

Leveled.

 

 

Poem: Metaphor Motel

 

Metaphor Motel

by Shannon Laws

 

To break your dry spell
Select a stranger well-formed
absent of rust
Consider the servings
and portions of the meal

Ready the pan, prime the pump
Rest.
Repeat.

Visit the mill together
Break down the wheat
‘til flour dusts the air

Mix with matted hair, various dibbles,
and the sweaty sheets of two queen beds
Smash together until your nose bleeds
and one of you vomits

Pour into grocery store parking lot
Bake 350 degrees, one hour

Confirm only the crow sees you
You should be sore in the morning
No breakfast, just a light rain