Jambalaya Thought Soup

free verse

My brain is a Jambalaya hot mess I confess slimy residue on the surface I skim with a spoon

at the bottom of the bowl darkness rises with bits of floating food for thought

a dad hungry for more but only gets less dwindling relief from the grip of kidney disease

silently scheming his liquid demise he’s drowning inside outside there’s nothing to do

but blow on the spoon to cool the hot soup smoky clouds circle the bowl as heat expands

cold constricts his kidneys failing a backwash waning solemn whispers of “nothing’s draining”

ebbs with the day and shadowed walls hiding bad things troubled things family things that never function

domination victimization role playing muddled turbulence

soaking up chunks of floating soup scum not for consumption and yet we dip our spoons into churning emotions

in the bowl a chilling breath of sensations unknown truths that want to be spoken will never be told

soggy, dissolving resolved to be whole and yet they won’t what once was hot now is cold

so we sip the soup with a spoon that drips wistful moments into the bowl scraping bottom

empty craving something but there’s nothing in the spoon to hold

© Lauren Salkin 2022