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Memory Stick (A Trick of the Tongue)

September 24, 2011

hush-syncopated sandal slap
on sun-worn steps:
a baguette-bite away

teeth tear still-warm
crust, crumble burnt ochre
over summer arms

smiling

fresh dough, soft jolt
to sixty faultless foot-skips
down
breezy
sandstone

erratic jazz
return
arms nestling
French scented sticks

knowing

breakfast at Tiffany’s
is trounced:
your dozed skin
bed-fresh

lustring.

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42 Comments
  1. lustring? ha. really like the flow of this and it is fun read with the allit and pacing….the opening stanza in particular…

  2. hmmmm becky…this is de-lici-ous….

  3. Movie reference thrown in too, like that addition, great piece!

  4. I love the way the language glides, skips, and skates in this one. Especially the juxtapositions and contradictions of hush/slap, crust/crumble, soft/jolt, and trounced/lustring. Trounced is a marvelous word amidst the warmth and spin permeating your poem.

  5. made me smile… and also very hungry! hahah.. nice write!

  6. Nothing like the flood of scent from breaking bread to rouse the “lustring” memory. This poem holds that moment up like host.

  7. Yes…what Brendan said! I had a bread making machine just so I could achieve the scent without the labour! (what does THAT say about me!lol) wonderful write, triggering all senses!

    • Thanks, Tash. Much appreciated!
      And what’s wrong with bread-making machines? More time for writing that way.. πŸ™‚

  8. I love the smell of bread…..a delicious write πŸ™‚

  9. I’m coming to your house for breakfast tomorrow…….. To heck with Tiffany’s…. and did you really do 60 perfect foot skips down the breezy sandstone pathway? I would love to have watched that, standing there nibbling on my warm soft crust, with a lustring tied around my neck to keep the burnt ochre from finding its mark on my shirt! What a beautiful day that would be…….

  10. I’m hungry now, great job and i can smell them baking now.

  11. I do miss bread. I can’t have gluten, and the gluten-free varieties are just not the same 😦

    I think I could almost taste it again!

    • Oh Lori… sorry to do this to you then! But you can still smell…sometimes that’s better than the tatse!

  12. Yummmm… Nothing like fresh bread. Love the way you put it.

  13. I wish I had some of that bread right now – if it can invoke memories this potent, poetry this crisp and jazzy.

  14. Now I’m hungry…I love bread! Great piece. Really conjures up the full sensations of food. =P

  15. Ah, but if you have fresh bread at breakfast in bed, you may later wake up to some crumbs!

    Enjoyed this, no matter how you slice it.

    I’ll be quiet now!

  16. This brought back enticing memories of a few years I lived in France. Not sure I’ve experienced baquettes in quite the same way since then. Delicious poem.

  17. Aida permalink

    I read this yesterday, and again today… mmm, the fresh crusty scent of decadent bread! Great write Becky, I especially love the reference of Tiffany’s – it makes the bread, a true gem πŸ™‚

  18. Love the musicality of this. Reminds me of Pete Sinfields approach in 21st Century Schizoid man (“teeth tear still warm”) I love how you control the rhythm throughout and usage of “smiling, knowing, lustring” ( I like your choice of lustring over sparkling, etc. — just the perfect word choice.)

  19. Like the way this engages all the senses and has a great rhythm. I think “lustring” is my new favorite word! πŸ™‚

  20. Thanks Siubhan….. could be mine too… πŸ™‚

  21. A yummy mouthful… I love the ending!

  22. Thanks Laurie…

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