Coq au Vin

Coq Au Vin

By, Afua Serwah Osei-Bonsu

The pictures and cities of a poet’s reading

The crumbs that dusted the wedding plate

The plate below, a demure and classical bridal blue

Blue as a robin’s egg, and a lover’s eyes

Chef will you place robin’s eggs such as these in the garden?

Traces and pools of honey on the plates

She wondered what a reading was of the house

The dishes she said

Should lift burden and wash themselves

And maintain their memories

Can you man love me?

Will you man love me?

They were lined up

Divine my body

Linked trunks as circling big top elephants

And an old Wizards premiere business

Had been magical dilating and titillating anal lubricants

Make my crumbs

A sky, and a story

And a wet sweetness

Make my man love me

He will need the well

And the virgin’s tears

And a truth elixir

In his soul

To be a poet

He will surely

Need a bosom

And its milk

He told me rape

Was extreme passion

A thief’s love

An overpowering salty love

An ocean

And sharks circling at the bottom

O Horizon

That a God had saved these men, all men

Like honey glazed jamon from a Jew

For himself

He programmed the men for infidelity and circulation

He programmed the women to be his

And got into various bodies to please them

The Coq au Vin’s morning madera

A cock o doodle doo

Hissing and strutting

The apple blossom discovered

For a lamb shank

When an apple is sliced at its cinturon

A bundt cake

Strawberry or cinnamon

It was in fact a poet’s breakfast

Before Christmas, before Thanksgiving

Before Halloween

In the season of holidays

A marriage of language and culinary

The Chef came to her a Chinoise, a French and an English

From body to body, from soul to soul

From skill to skill

From fork to mouth to kiss her

“That is the law!” he screamed













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