Jambalaya Thought Soup

free verse

My brain is a Jambalaya hot mess
I confess
slimy residue on the surface
I skim with a spoon

at the bottom of the bowl
darkness
rises
with bits of floating food for thought

a dad hungry for more
but only gets less
dwindling relief
from the grip of kidney disease

silently scheming
his liquid demise
he’s drowning inside
outside there’s nothing to do

but blow on the spoon
to cool the hot soup
smoky clouds circle the bowl
as heat expands

cold constricts
his kidneys failing
a backwash waning
solemn whispers of “nothing’s draining”

ebbs with the day and shadowed walls
hiding bad things
troubled things
family things that never function

domination
victimization
role playing
muddled turbulence

soaking up chunks of floating soup scum
not for consumption
and yet we dip our spoons
into churning emotions

in the bowl
a chilling breath of sensations unknown
truths that want to be spoken
will never be told

soggy, dissolving
resolved to be whole
and yet they won’t
what once was hot now is cold

so we sip the soup with a spoon
that drips wistful moments
into the bowl
scraping bottom

empty
craving something
but there’s nothing
in the spoon to hold

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