Tonight's Poet Corner: Breakfast Babe

Breakfast Babe
by Belinda Roddie

You serve me heartbeats on a griddle, doll,
ladling out batter, waiting for it to rise
to the challenge, become something far more
powerful than its priot state.

And as the palpitations spread, you serve
them up with syrup and butter. The scrambled
eggs are my battered gray matter mixed
with garlic salt and hot sauce: A sheer delight
on a paper plate.

I demolish everything you prepare, eat
everything you set in front of me:
Biscuits and gravy when the gravy is grave,
buttermilk when it's mixed with guilt.
Now bacon, that's always a lovely touch.

And of course, we can't forget the mimosas,
bubbling like the drink's trying to break free.
I sip citrus and champagne to ward off pain
and smile. Even though I'm a hot mess,
you always know how to sate my appetite and,
in the morning,  make me feel like my very best.