Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #77
I Tasted Onions And Dill
by Belinda Roddie
I tasted onions and dill when I kissed
her, the white walls of the diner closing
in around us. I took her back to my
apartment so we could watch a brand new
episode of her favorite sitcom while
eating homemade nachos laden with fresh
salsa, guacamole, and pinto beans.
It wasn't dramatic; it was simple.
It was divine, however, at the same
time. I was thrilled by the way we both were
straightforward: Me with a gut, her with a
scraggly hairdo, us both with a mighty
appetite. I adored the flavor of
her lips - the taste of matter-of-fact love.
by Belinda Roddie
I tasted onions and dill when I kissed
her, the white walls of the diner closing
in around us. I took her back to my
apartment so we could watch a brand new
episode of her favorite sitcom while
eating homemade nachos laden with fresh
salsa, guacamole, and pinto beans.
It wasn't dramatic; it was simple.
It was divine, however, at the same
time. I was thrilled by the way we both were
straightforward: Me with a gut, her with a
scraggly hairdo, us both with a mighty
appetite. I adored the flavor of
her lips - the taste of matter-of-fact love.
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