pantry sounds ascend on waves of the snare
who knows all along it is a symbol
intended as a stand-in for the chef
plunged to the eyeballs in a mad scramble
from which smoke bomb shouts
like a drunk in lurch –
and obsessively turning over leaves
as the bay is a vanished mystery
but maybe cardamom will have to do,
except stampeding prints absent sandals
stamped on the steps that end in the cellar.
The cardamom too escaped with the bay.
Meanwhile, lounging on a lily pad,
was a fat green frog – true, a toad agent
did try to goad that day’s scenery boss
to perhaps consider an inward look,
like maybe within these works in these worlds
such a fat frog need not hog marquee names,
but this agent for the toads only bugged
that day’s scenery boss as this agent
for the toads always bugged every boss
of each day’s scenery supervision.
And as always the fat green frog sputtered
mushy fly parts that yet clung to the lips.