A History of Particles: Ash, Wood, Shrimp
Unsettled and predisposed
to flight, they
rise. Or, awaiting the process, receive
the glow as prelude to transformation, a
nocturnal exegesis inscribed in flame
and black swirls. Death in the air,
settling upon us. The bitterest
taste. But how to explain
the tongue’s sweet tremor? And the narrow
margins between the transition
from wood to smoke?
At 250 degrees
their pale shells redden,
become vessels of radiant
heat and its attenuated function,
moisture retained so as
to delay and heighten the
delectable flesh, once freed, become
virtue, become fate
sliding down the throat,
the course of deterioration hastened
and endured in perpetuity.
This first appeared on the blog in June 2015.
O at the Edges 
Mmmm … the blend of aromas (wood, smoke, shrimp!) as poetic triggers! Your muse was having a field day – this makes me hungry! For grilled shrimp, and for communing with my muse – cool to think of surprise muse interruptions as “hastened and endured in perpetuity”.
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It’s been a long time since I smoked shrimp. There’s nothing quite like smoked shrimp dipped into chipotle mayo. Yum. Makes me long for a smoker, which would also lend itself to brisket! I have not had good barbecue since I left Texas. Sigh. Maybe I should invest in a smoker. Hmm…
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I like how you use food to elicit emotion and memory in the reader.
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Even in everyday life I tend to drone on about food. LOL.
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You do it so well that I tried my hand at your formula in the poem I wrote about Cup Noodles.
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