As hungry as a horse

food preparation, poetry, master-chef, hungry

Her rickety imagination,
percolated condensation
Her language gallop-stuttered
Her bones bridled, suffered
horse-hungry at her kitchen station

They’d put the cart before the HORS D’OEUVRES
But the maistresse chef deserves
to eat, before she serves
scrumptious strawberry preserves
or she’s edgy as a cliff of nerves

She understood the rift
between the baffles and the quick
After flight or flourish
longing for the nourish,
eating is a gift

Would her absence be caught?
She’d become curbed, overwrought
She could struggle and brood
or savour some food
else all her canter be for nought

Wordle, word maze,
The Poised Martini Challenge #34 Confession

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