Wednesday, April 13, 2011


Pop, pop, pop, beep, beep, beeeeep,
                        popcorn’s done, happens
                        frequently, never
                        considered the moment
a dangerous one.
Click, the door pops open
Mama, Mama! As I reach
in to grab the hot
bursting bag, aroma
butter and greasy salt, glance 
up, see chubby arms tugging my leg
cherubic face begging
the bag in my grasp,
drips scalding, 
hot oil, one drop
spills down onto perfect peach cheek
as a torrent pours into the crease of my elbow
searing, yet I lunge for him and that one drop

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