22 July: 20 Pieces of a Poem

Piece #2: The One That’s Preposterous

He thinks of his mum when he eats
sliced white bread, the sort that sticks
on the back of your front teeth.

Ida, that’s his mum’s name. If she had
a middle name, he didn’t know it.
Probably didn’t much care. A name
wouldn’t change his side of the view.

Ida baked a loaf of bread each morning.
Except Sundays. And except for the day
when she came home with sliced bread
in a plastic bag from the corner shop.

Somebody’s doing it for me now, she said.

A few months later, his mum took a job at
his school. In the cafeteria. Baking bread.

Sometimes she’d still bake bread, special
Sundays, like Easter, otherwise she’d not
lift a hand to any task except to smack him
for not being near-dead still in church.

Or when he did an Oliver Twist, and asked
for a second helping of those crackers 
on the priest’s communion plate.

Ida’s hand always had the last word.

This is Piece Two (draft) of a multi-part project. The concept was originally created by Jim Simmerman, entitled “Twenty Little Poetry Projects”. The phrase “The Last Word” is from a Twiglets prompt. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021

14 responses to “22 July: 20 Pieces of a Poem”

  1. In a chi-chi grocery recently I got to listen to a customer explaining to the bakery counter girl the meaning of the phrase “the best thing since sliced bread.” He probably has an Archimedes rap for the kid stocking screws in the hardware store.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. The next time I’m in a supermarket, which isn’t apt to be anytime soon because Sussex is a cesspit of Covid right now, I’ll take a photo of the bread aisle. You’ll see that most loaves are UNsliced here. It’s baked fresh in the store every day. If you want it sliced, you can ask them to push it through the slicing machine, but then it won’t be fresh and warm because you can’t slice warm bread.

      Liked by 1 person

    2. ps: Archimedes rap … 😂😂


  2. They sound like quite a pair 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’ve want them to be vivid but not toxic.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. You do enjoy taking us for a little wander down memory lane, and you do it so beautifully😂


    1. Complete fiction, Hobbo, but I’m glad you enjoy the wander.

      Liked by 2 people

  4. An enjoyable read. I especially like the last lines.


    1. Thank you very much.


  5. I don’t know about the bread, but the poetry’s delicious!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Not toxic but it does have a bite. My Mom used to pinch us in church – it worked but how did we manage to stay quiet during the pinch?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Fear likely. We wouldn’t dare look cross-eyed at my parents. Different times back then, Debi.


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