Cold Tomato Soup

By Giggles Anderson

the lawn beckons
come one come all

butter love
egg white gloves

wines pop a cork

the milky sky shimmers
an orchestra's light
gnomes and faeries
will whisk away the night

salad forks demand attention
left hand need not apply
start on the outside
work your way in

pour from the right

seating charts
aching head
perfection finally arrives

it's just past eight

cold tomato soup
strikes a mean bargain
with an ambitious spoon

a fluffy roll calculates
its own demise

the croutons step aside
as spheres of ice drown

water doesn't stand a chance

dogs know
the truth

grated potato sighs
a carrot sulks
cabbage holds turnip's tongue flat

inside the roast
hides garlic, onions,
pepper, and pain

the gravy is angry again
pass the rice

thunderbolt sweat
an empire's rose

sandcastles sway
by the moon

in this glass house the mirror screams
while the ceilings dance cheek to cheek

from sell to cell what a trade
the mugs kiss and always tell

sleep with one eye hoping
listen with one ear clothed
speak loudly
and carry a long-handled spoon

dessert is on the way
ike violence for water