untitled by April Joi Antoniou
a Burger King straw
dripping fries
in ketchup tears
licking "what-ifs" from
the slowly sliding sides of
a soft-serve cone
while children scream and shout,
dragging grease and chicken nuggets
through plastic tubes
like maze rats.
Fake flame-broiled processed
thoughts on a bun
consumed, not absorbed.
Exhausted
like a mother of three
with no time
too much laundry
broke
and broken
by her own expectations.
This poem stands out as trying to capture a movement in life in a new lens. Analogizing the food and its condiments with the human emotions seems to create this artificial feel, going through the motions because of pressures. I think that this piece could in future revisions paint a more vivid image by depicting the scene and “background” so that it doesn’t seem in the subjects head. You should check out the Pain of Pink Evenings again, I think Rosemary Moore does a very solid job describing how Tracy as a mother is going through her own hardships.
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