Your Melba toast gets soggy

I suppose that one day I will wake-up to a bad dream
finding life the effect of a salami on rye sandwich.

You see, in this circus, balancing the flaming debris
of the corpus on the chin will burn you.

Is a bad dream really a metaphor for poor choices,
of leaving, staying, saying, mocking angst?

Or, is it a pyrotechnic pentagram filled with all the magic
and ridiculousness that follows an outcome, as remorse?

We are all zombies trudging through our existence until the door
slams shut on tomorrow and your Melba toast gets soggy.

If I swallow this torched frame of life will I disappear, will tissue
papers of the past become fly ash, smokey wisps to my memory?

Copyright: 2009, Donald Harbour

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11 thoughts on “Your Melba toast gets soggy

  1. This poem was more biting than “soggy melba toast”! I enjoyed your point of view and I thank you for the insightful glimpse into our decisive choices in life. Well done.

    Like

  2. I like your terse wry, dry sense of humor in this. Your voice really counterpoints the poem’s lovely wild swings in imagery:

    “Is a bad dream really a metaphor for poor choices,
    of leaving, staying, saying, mocking angst?

    Or, is it a pyrotechnic pentagram…

    We are all zombies trudging through our existence until the door
    slams shut on tomorrow and your Melba toast gets soggy”

    Like

  3. In the photograph, the performer’s mouth and chin are important — the place of balance. Your poem, referring as it does to the mouth, chin, and throat, highlights that importance. A unique angle on the photograph.

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  4. My favorite lines are:
    “We are all zombies trudging through our existence until the door
    slams shut on tomorrow and your Melba toast gets soggy.”

    More emphasis for me on the zombie trudgery of ordinary existence than on the soggy Melba toast!

    Like

  5. I wish I could practice hallucinatory meditation. That sounds really good. This whole poem is great but I especially love the lines Paul mentions.

    Like

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