Frigid Bitch

I love this!

(Want to come over? I have lots of food.)

it really is a great poem, Magdalen. I love your way with words.

Magdalen said:

Thanks! Your kind words will sustain me!!

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At least you have beer?

Nice piece, Magdalen. I always enjoy your poems.

a still life of wilted fruit under a dark cloud.

this pleases me.

Flaccid, but acid. I don't find it hard to praise this hungry, desperate, disappointed piece.

Applause for you, and for this sad success: the alliteration and the allegory are funny and sad - an uncommon concoction.

Where DID the butter went, since you brought it up. Loved the poem. Still wondering why I have to search all over hell's half acre to find a poem by you. Sure is worth it when I find one, though. Say, if you put a limp pickle/pecker in a fridge, wouldn't it, well, firm up? Fridge...frigid...get it? Okay, sorry. That was uncalled for. Xoxoxo

My fridge is like this all the time. Not because I'm poor and needy, but if I stalk it, I'll weigh 300 lbs. I've become a junk-food baby.

Oh and yes, I loved this one Mag. Have you got a book out yet. When's it due?

Neat. Like it.
From a writerly, not poetic perspective, it seems like the poem might do with some pauses of some sort to allow things to settle before proceeding on. Maybe even just a paragraph space. Just a suggestion ;-)

(eggs butter beer
straddle bare bars,
something here...
jam jars jostle, click
a single sloshed dill –
something else here...

Magdalen said:

Thanks!! This old family recipe works with just about any ingredients - mom always said gherkins last longer!!

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you are evil