red booth
review
issue s16een
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Chowdown Paradise
We dined in peppermint rose
off I-80 on the Great Plains,
Formica booths and countertops
commingled with blue napery.
Above the bar a taxidermized
deer head wrapped in a bandanna
looked down through 3-D glasses
at the heartland of roast beef,
a belle époque of slaws and fricassees
and buxom dishes of pink ham.
Entering celestial ground, we
savored lamb ribs impregnated with fire
and power-house sauces dangerously
flecked with peppers, making us want
to share them with strangers.
Serpentine onion rings appeared;
the chicken juices turned seraphic.
We lapsed into dessert, rolling our tongues
around our spice-exhausted mouths
consummated with jumbo cinnamon rolls,
a shebang of divinity, and dark red jam.
- Askold Skalsky
| Askold teaches English in western
Maryland, and his poems have appeared in numerous publications, most
recently in Plainsong, Natural Bridge, and Southern Poetry Review. |
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