with apologies to William BlakeSalsa Salsa, burning bright,
In the dip bowls of the night;
What dark maw or grim abyss
Could meet thy fearful zestiness?
On what distant hill or plain
Grew your peppers so insane?
Beneath what sun did they perspire?
What demon filled them with such fire?
What gloved hands & what stout heart
Could tear these vile fruits apart
And simmer them at the full moon?
What dread pot? & What dread spoon?
What the recipe? What wife,
In what kitchen gave thee life?
What container? What dread nerve,
Dare thy deadly bite preserve?
When the cook's eyes filled with tears,
And something prickled in her ears:
Did she smile her work to taste?
Did she enjoy this scorching paste?
Salsa Salsa, burning bright,
In the dip bowls of the night;
What dark maw or grim abyss
Dare meet thy fearful zestiness?
by Laura Garrison
in Volume 3 Issue 2
Buy a CopyReturn to the Online TOC
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