Sliced Bread

By: Charles Giuliano - Jul 07, 2022

 

Sliced Bread

In the wee hours
When first light
Fills the room
We inch out
Last bits of night
Holding on tight
The poems that
Seemingly compose
Themselves
Pouring forth
The froth of thought
Bubbles of champagne
Itching bits of intoxication
Heady verse so
Readily flat and lost
Looking for something
New and grand
Changing everything
Startling revelation
So difficult by day
Weighed down by
Quotedian anesthesia
That wiff of ether
Absurd somnabulism
Run over by a
Steamroller of the ordinary
Imagination numbed
Flat as a pancake
Not like the invention
Of sliced bread
Utterly changed us
Nothing like it
Before or since
Taken for granted
Indeed a metaphor
Sliced bread
Stands on its own
In 1928 it seems
Chillicothe Baking Company
In Missouri
This is a fact offered
Kleen Maid Sliced Bread
Otto Rohwedder
Bet you never heard of him
Obscure as most poets
Particularly living ones
Invented the machine
That led to toast
Changed our lives forever
Thank you Mr. Rohwedder
Indeed giving us
A slice of life