Source: ADFP Home Magazine 
The simple contact with a wooden spoon and the word   
recovered itself, began to spread as grass, forced   
as it lay sprawling to consider the monument where   
patience looked at grief, where warfare ceased   
eyes curled outside themes to search the paper   
now gleaming and potent, wise and resilient, word   
entered its continent eager to find another as   
capable as a thorn. The nearest possession would   
house them both, they being then two might glide   
into this house and presently create a rather larger   
mansion filled with spoons and condiments, gracious
as a newly laid table where related objects might gather
to enjoy the interplay of gravity upon facetious hints,   
the chocolate dish presuming an endowment, the ladle  
of galactic rhythm primed as a relish dish, curved   
knives, finger bowls, morsel carriages words might   
choose and savor before swallowing so much was the   
sumptuousness and substance of a rented house where words   
placed dressing gowns as rosemary entered their scent   
percipient as elder branches in the night where words   
gathered, warped, then straightened, marking new wands.

~ Barbara Guest

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