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Poetry Breakfast

Beginning March 20th, 2016 Poetry Breakfast will once again serve a little poetic nourishment every morning. Start your day with our new expanded menu. Poems, of course, are our specialty. But we will also be serving a fuller menu that includes poetry related creative non-fiction such as letters to and from poets, essays on poetry, and anything else that might feed a poet and poetry lover’s soul.

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Diane Elayne Dees

Wearing Thin By Diane Elayne Dees

Wearing Thin
By Diane Elayne Dees

Endless Contract Negotiations Wearing Thin on Drew Brees
Front page headline, New Orleans Times-Picayune

Endless crime wears thin on residents and tourists.
The man shot dead while holding his baby outside
the Bayou Boogaloo was only twenty-one;
he fell in front of his mother, who will soon enough
be worn from grief and trauma. The paint on abandoned
Ninth Ward houses has worn very thin,
the neighborhood dredged to within an inch
of its life, its foundation unable to absorb
the overflow of rivers of abandonment.
The Saints are hardly martyrs, but are made so
by masses of starving believers. They wait,
with eyes toward heaven, while Drew Brees is worn thin.

Diane Elayne Dees’s poetry has been published in many journals and anthologies. Diane lives in Louisiana. She publishes Women Who Serve, a blog about women’s professional tennis.

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Making Scones By Diane Elayne Dees

Making Scones
By Diane Elayne Dees

Chopping raisins is punishment called a chore.
The sticky blade will not cut.
Chop, run water, wipe.
Chop, run water, wipe.
Not small enough, my mother says.
Not fast enough.
The tiny kitchen is hot like a prison,
and there is no back on the stool.
She stirs the dough and waits
for me to master the blade.
Not fast enough.
Not good enough.
More and more raisins appear on the board,
and I am cut to shreds by her impatient looks,
her running commentary of criticism.
Her hands shake as she holds the wooden spoon.
She wants the scones to eat with her cheap tea.
She wants them because my father hates them.
She should have stayed in London where she belonged.
Instead, she watches me chop tinier and tinier slivers
until the blade is dull and the heat reduces me
to a neglected compote that will harden, untouched,
while the deceptive smell of baking dough
wafts through the neighborhood.

Diane Elayne Dees’s poetry has been published in many journals and anthologies. Diane lives in Louisiana. She publishes Women Who Serve, a blog about women’s professional tennis.

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