Mousse au chocolat
 
Rita is in her summer dress. She’s got
the mixer out and she is hard at work
perfecting home-made mousse au chocolat.
I for my part am typing like a clerk
 
at my computer. Rita’s got cacao
and mascarpone and banana, all
to form her own concoction. And just now,
she brings a spoon to sample it. You’d call
 
her labor sui generis – you won’t
turn up this recipe. And yet, the tongue
delights – the eyes close – as the do or don’t
of custom pales. The mousse is made. I’ve sung
 
my wife in her blue dress with its red spots,
I’ve sung the kitchen where she takes her ease –
the house’s heart, with all its pans and pots.
I’ve sung the afternoon. Bring more of these.
 
John Isbell


If you have any thoughts about this poem, John Isbell  would be pleased to hear them