Passador,
Rotate me.
Passing with your knives,
your skewers
standing high
I summon you
with signs discreet
Though my hunger
is anything
but.
Is this a bit of my skin?
Moist medallions sliced
with such perfect
motions of wrist,
like a pianist
or magician performing
at my tableside
with a bow
and a flourish.
I like your closeness.
How you set
with such tenderness
- such tenderness -
on my plate
as if it were a
single stemmed flower
you were offering
instead of meat.
My hands are asparagus.
Long-stalked arms tapering
to elegant points.
Rubberized in heat
how they long to accompany,
Limp when you wrap them up
sighing in your prosciutto or bacon.
Your white teeth are my rapturous path.
Your mouth is my paradise.
Part for me.
Vertebrae cracked open to display
rounded red and white
as ham-bones
roundness like eyes
peering up at you
expectantly.
You inspire me
to handle knife and fork
with unnatural poise and restraint,
But your beauty makes me bite steel.
My eyelids become peach flesh.
Chin in hand, I dip my head,
giving you a good view
of my vulnerable neck.
I peek up through fuzzy lashes
to see if this affects you.
You smile, used to this admiration
hired precisely
for how smart you look
in that gaucho tie.
Or maybe because you sense my longing
chasing the scent of São Paolo
on your lapels.
I would be right at home
in Vila Madalena
with my light hair, my blurred tongue,
and my
diluted blood.
Toss me, if you wish,
onto a bed of smoking timbers.
Then skewer me
like a flower
hothouse bred
to be picked
and presented
on a porcelain platter.
I crave your salt.
I don’t care
How it withers me.
Author notes
I had the good fortune to have dinner at a churrascaria, a Brazilian restaurant that specializes in barbecued meat.
The waiters serve the meat rodizio style (rodizio means "revolving")-- they walk around with great, hot smoking skewers of meat. For those of you who know me. . . um, 'nuff said.
For those of you who don't, let me just say, it was one of the most sensual experiences of my life, and if you ever get the opportunity, I highly recommend.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 15 of 15
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WHOW!!!
i've been gone from this site for i don't know how long and when i got back...this! is the first poem i read...whow!!! as in, WOW!!!
great piece here, lauren...i was like salivating when i was reading for your poem, because you just made my mind conjure up so many images of all the good things to eat in all the world...
wow!!! again, your talent to amaze and send the imagination running is really very great and i admire you so much for that...i don't know if i could ever evoke such kinds of emotions that you have managed to pluck from everyone's senses with this one...great job!
. Rewarded 8
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Hi LH. I was bowled over by your great review of my piece, "Churrascaria." I was especially pleased to hear you were salivating over the images-- the cook as well as the poet in me is always happy to stimulate the senses!
Glad to see you back on the site. I look forward to swinging by your page and getting caught up with your latest.
Pie
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A well written poem
You showed great insight and use of words that showed a keen sense of how you wanted this to be carried out.. Rewarded 4
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Hi Marie,
Patrick and I are moved into the house, still getting set up. I'm really glad you read and commented on this piece. I look forward to swinging by your page and getting caught up with your work. Hopefully we can get together soon.
Lauren
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This one, Laurenpie, is one of your ligher ones, and it got me drooling, not only for Brazilian roast but for all the sexy undertones of skin, fat, sizzle and bite. Wonderful evocation of the delights of fleshy, flashy food and all the animal spirit in it.
Some of your phrases just plain sent me skyward: that subtle ref to the Magdalene with all its, her, connotations; how the poet and the poem's meat become one, especially with "bit of my skin", "asparagus" arms, eyelids of "peach flesh", and that "craving of (masculine proteined) "salt" in a "gaucho tie" - 'nuff said for sure!
I'm prejudiced, no doubt, but both Latin and Mediterranean meals, with all their oils and spices and earthy sizzles, have got to be the most sexy and fulfilling in the world. And you, porkypie, with your "diluted blood" and "blurred tongue", rich with partly ancestored Spain - no wonder you'd be willing to die in the arms of such bi-feastliality.
This poem is so refreshing for me, Lauren, so lush with good things; it lightens my heart and my palate. It makes me drool for real food, food for the body and the soul.
Hungry now...
Later...
Lad. Rewarded 8
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Hi, Lad. Sorry for the extreme lateness of this reply-- Patrick and I bought our first house shortly after I posted this piece, and the days since have been a flurry of packing and paperwork, and then we moved in this past Sunday! It's a big adjustment.
I was tickled, as usual, with your reply-- I'm glad it got you salivating, and I knew you'd appreciate the Latin flavor. I wrote this very much with you in mind-- Patrick and I lucked into eating at this restaurant-- my parents, who are not adventurous eaters at all, got a gift certificate there and passed it on to Patrick and me. As soon as we got the first course, I thought, wow, if only Lad and Wayne were here! Not just the food, which was orgasmic, but MAN, you would have LOVED the wait staff-- all men, all walking around with these hot skewers of meat. If you're ever out my way, you and Wayne HAVE to try this place. The servers apparently are hired on the basis of beauty and being exotic.
Again, I am so glad you enjoyed this piece-- I wanted to share Em Chamas with you as much as I could across the miles! And I knew you'd get the Magdalene reference-- a perfect coincidence, Vila Madalena in Brazil is a bohemian quarter, full of writers and artists.
Luvya!
Lauren
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Hey Pie,
This does start an appetite. The description of the meat medallions and the asparagus wrapped in proscuitto came to life. I sort of imagined it in front of me, as i was reading your poem. I like how food here is truly elevated to the experience of the senses. I see food as that, not just a meal. Good food in a good restaurant is an experience and definitely a very sensual one. What is interesting about your writing is crawls through skin. This one does. It gave you certain images and feeling, almost under hot sun. The perspective you gave this poem, not just focused on diner and food, but the food takes on life which gives the poem its other meaning. Ah, the restaurant sounds wonderful. The experience seems worth it.
-iphios. Rewarded 8
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Hi, Iphios. Sorry for the lapse in my response to your kind review on my "Churrascaria" piece-- my husband and I bought our first house and we just moved in this past Sunday. It's a big adjustment.
I'm delighted that you picked up on the heat in this piece-- Brazil is hot, and the kitchen of a steakhouse, particularly where they smoke the meat, is a hot place as well. I had hoped to convey that, and convey the heat that arises from arousal of certain appetites. The restaurant was indeed wonderful-- in addition to the orgasmic food, the waitstaff seemed to have been selected for being beautiful and exotic. If you ever get a chance to go to a churrascaria, DO IT. It's a feast for all senses.
-Pie -
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Hey Pie,
Understandable.Congratulations on the new home! I'm taking note of the restaurant.
-iphios
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I can never argue with a poem that celebrates a love of food. That especially holds true when it is done so artistically and sensually! This was great. I always wanted to compose a book titled "It's Not About the Food"... all short stories about special meals or places to eat that mean so much for reasons other than the actual food. Now I see it could be should stories AND poems. I am just really, very impressed that you have taken a meal and turned it into such a seductive piece of writing... such a nice job. There isn't anything about I would suggest changing or altering. Very enjoyable!
. Rewarded 8
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Hi, Mark. Thank you so much for the kind review of my poem, "Churrascaria." I've been off the site for a few weeks now and I look forward to swinging by your page. You admire poems that celebrate love of a food-- a man after my own heart. I love to cook and I love to write and the two go often go hand-in-hand.
CP
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hey lauren
very enjoyable, this wasn't about food per se. but seduction of a meal, not only the food alought thats a big part of it but the restaurant, the way the food is served the waiter, until in the end you offer yourself up.
i was thinking you probably enuf food poems for a collection
dave. Rewarded 6
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Hey, Dave. Sorry for the long lapse between the posting of this piece and responding to everyone's kind comments-- my husband and I bought a house.
Thanks for getting that this wasn't really about a house-- as most of my food poems usually aren't about food but about what the individual meals or items represent.
Yeah, I probably ought to find a new theme, but you know what they say- write about what you know.
Lauren
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Bon Appetit
As always, Lauren, your love of the sensual and of food in particular is palpable here, and the poem has an air of gluttony which you cunningly blur to invoke other senses in your inimitable fashion. Some of the food references in the earlier stanzas were a little to specific for this unititiated oaf, but the closing stanzas and particularly the final one, were finely erotic and ..tasteful. You certainly deepened the mystery of appetite here. Hope dessert was as good as dinner. >W<. Rewarded 8
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Hi, John. Sorry for my much belated reply to your kind response to "Churrascaria." Patrick and I found a house right after I posted this piece and we have spent the last couple of weeks going through the process of purchasing it and then moving in.
I had hoped to offer an air of decadence and sensuality more than gluttony in this piece-- the crudest perhaps being greed. One can't properly enjoy a meat restaurant without a certain amount of abandon. Dessert did not disappoint.
Cheers and hugs,
Lauren
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