Marshmallow Memory Poem
High School French Teacher asks class,
"Any word you need translated?"
"Professeur de Madame s'il vous plaît dites-moi
comment dire marshmallow en français?"
She looks at me strangely.
"Ask another question," is her answer.
There is a french word.
She never enjoyed the sweet
smoky taste of perfect roasted
guimauve.
Joy of beach palette fire.
Fetch near the dumpsters.
Haul hangs out of the trunk
pray Sheriff doesn't spot with
the wood bumping in the back.
Seven girls and five seat belts.
Before videos of crash dummies.
Friends protect sugar from fire.
Sparks flash to the night sky.
Chic hand me downs.
Tissue pad the bra.
Pray Valentine arrives.
There's a Saint for that.
Posse jammed in a Plymouth Valient
are Princesses in their own right
makers of finest Parisian guimauve.
Caroline Gerardo Guimauve Poem 2/15/2016 Copyright
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