A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.

but aren't they all random?

Wednesday, December 11, 2019

dark pump

pumpernickel should not be
reduced to terms so slick
and pop
as "dark pump,"
please. This peasant bread
has dignity. We should not have
to drop our gaze, picture it
poised strut and lurch, atop
the cutest black gloss high,
high heels embossed
with small rye flowers.
A tiny touch, a nod
at authenticity

we shouldn't have
- a total loss.

To picture some obscure niche porn
devoted to
those furtive couplings
pitch black dark
thrusting,
pumping

in your food
you'd rather it be bits
less rude

Now wouldn't you? I guess
it's just a pettish
peeve of mine

found scuttling unwholesomely
from crumbs. Some bread-bug
- is it yours?
It isn't mine, but

yes. It is, I guess.
I'll take it
as it comes. But it

just rubs me wrong way round.
You know? It's needless!
Condescending,
dumb.

Let this bread keep
its dignity.
It's pumpernickel!

Not some tart, some
scone (no slur), some
overearnest, faux home
-made pretentious basque
foccacia, some freaking
classy-ass brioche,
some stone
-ground artisan
dusted-crust
fuckmuffin, fuck

fuck's sake
it's pumpernickel.
Not "pump" - and fuck
"light" pumpernickel anyway!
Just some dipshit's idea
to tart rye bread up
"haute," or some shit.

Put it in the fucking toaster
or something already. Hot
and dark, pumping away in
heels

fucking
slut bread
look

I'm sorry
I'm not a bread shamer, I just

it's pumpernickel. Okay?

Not "dark pump."
Sounds unwholesome
or distasteful
or something.

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