I never dreamed I'd relish
every "mmmm" and mouthwatering
lip smack that emanated from
your full, pouty lips.
Thus far, I’d only known to fear the
thought of a savory morsel
lodging itself
in your delicate throat.
The mere thought
asphyxiating mine.
That notion stained in my mind—
any joy in feeding you, impermissible.
That first taste of crisp bacon,
the grease tickling tongue buds
expanding your limited palate
with intensifying flavor.
I forgot for a moment about
the sharp edges of thin fried pork.
And instead, I gambled on
the joy of my favorite food
satiating your small mouth,
nourishing your little belly.
I let it go.
Permitting the flavors
of my life
to wash it down.
Flavor is the theme for my writing group this month.
Read more pieces about flavor from my fellow Illuminate members:
A Bitter Taste (a poem) by Mia Sutton
Swedish Pancakes (Plett) by Kirsten Bergman
The Flavor of Melancholy by Laci Hoyt
Tr(eating) by Crystal James
