American River Review 2019 - Flipbook - Page 32
Foodgasm
Claudia Anna Stelmach
A hunger starts to rumble deep inside.
I feel the ache, my stomach twists in knots.
Your skin sizzles and pops of love deep fried.
My heart begins to pound like clamored pots.
I bite and crunch the toasted rolls that steam
and melt the oozing butter sliding off
my knife that both tears open and slaps cream.
But take it slow: let’s savor the pilaf
that’s paired with rib eye: juicy, lean, and pink
as long and red spaghetti twirled and sucked
between those puckered lips, no time to think.
Indulgence grows as buttons fly untucked!
What’s left: regret, that gurgles like hot stew,
No room is left for the tiramisu.
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