Poem finished 15 or so years later. . .

I have another post brewing, but this old poem caught my attention and I had to finish it.  For several years I let it sit, now with fresh eyes, I dug into it and completed the image.  Is this how creativity works for you?  I think this is why writing with a busy family works for me, it prevents me from hitting send too soon, before it is finished (sometimes-other times I rush it out-and then realize it was too soon)


The new stuff is too neat and
tidy in that paper bag.
The joy of it, drowned
behind the glass door
and whirring motor,
beneath newfangled grease
like plastic on the tongue.

The old fashioned is more satisfying
I love the rat-a-tat-ing of kernels
into the pan,
the soft sizzle that slowly fades behind
plink. . .plink. . .
pinkety, plink plink,
Till the pops become drops
plopping on a tin roof
rapid and indistinct
slow again,
having emptied of corn scented steam
that burns the tip of my nose
as the kernels flutter
into the bowl
sprinkled with butter and salt
into my mouth.


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