Pencil & Milk, The Inheritance of 1945, Cappuccino (3 poems)
Pencil & Milk
first published in the Nine Arches Press print journal
I’m not quite pistachio & rosewater
or violets & cotton
let alone vetiver & bergamot
in general the swaddling elegance
of ampersands may be beyond me
but I’d like to envision myself
as blueberry and lavender
perhaps honeydew and mint
on a good day
but I might just be
maple and butternut
pluot and sage
spruce tips and something
that definitely doesn’t go
with spruce tips
I’d like to say that you’re
amber and sandalwood
tobacco and wild honey
vanilla orchid and brisket
passionfruit and pemmican
sweat and cherub tears
I feel like saying
orange juice and toothpaste
(with pulp, and so strong
it burns your mouth)
but you’re not and that would
be a mean thing to say
I am afraid, however
that you are
pencil shavings and milk chocolate
and I can’t be sorry
& no amount of ampersands
will make that better
but at least there is chocolate
and a crispy mouthfeel
which could be an acquired taste
I’m sorry for letting you down
but it wasn’t me
who shaved the pencils
into the chocolate
The Inheritance of 1945
tulip bulbs roasted
on railroad sleepers
no longer feature
on Dutch snackbar menus
but you can scoff down
breaded noodle patties
gravy-stuffed meatballs
mango milkshakes
spring rolls with Gouda
lavish pools of
colonial peanut sauce
the quintessential hangover grub
kapsalon: kebab meat and fries
topped with cheese
and everything imaginable
the punchy patatje oorlog
‘potatoes at war’
when it comes to eating
the war never quite ended here
these hollow giants
wrap deep fryers
as wedding gifts
they easily navigate
a hundred mayo flavours
never sated by
their saté sauce
their histones still hunger
the epigenome remembers
opa’s sunken cheeks
oma’s withered hands
finding warmth
in the embered dinner table
tulips fed them
until the spring
weaved their silky reds
into a double helix
still waiting
to be unearthed
Cappuccino
Maltodextrin. Microcrystalline cellulose. Retinyl acetate. A tiny plastic bottle, like it's meant for a baby. This flavor is "cappuccino" (nonna would be horrified). It also comes in sad strawberry and vapid vanilla. Some studies found it helpful particularly in early Alzheimer's.
The overcooked fish is barely salted. I ask if a pan of freshly baked cinnamon rolls, still warm, wouldn't help lift her mood. The nurse looks me in disgust: "But that's just sugar!" Waffles with maple syrup? Empty carbs, when the brain is made of protein and essential fatty acids. I know. I'm not sure what I was thinking.
Maija Haavisto (she/her) has had two poetry collections published in Finland: Raskas vesi (Aviador 2018) and Hopeatee (Oppian 2020). In English her poetry has appeared in e.g. Moist, EcoTheo, The North, Streetcake, ANMLY, Eye to the Telescope, Shoreline of Infinity and Kaleidoscope. Follow her on Twitter at: http://www.twitter.com/DiamonDie She has poetry readings available on YouTube at: http://www.youtube.com/user/DiamonDie