Fried Mush

Poem by S. J. Perry

When we were kids
our favorite Saturday breakfast
was fried cornmeal mush.

My sister and I would count
the number of strips on each plate
to make sure the counts were fair.

Mom probably hated the mess left behind
after she sent us, full, out to play
while she aired out the kitchen.

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John Brantingham
The Journal of Radical Wonder

Former Poet Laureate of Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks: Education. Nature. Art. Marriage. Nomading. Check out my latest books at johnbrantingham.com.