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Potato Chips and Poetry - Dec. 5, 2021

Gary Hunter

DON’T LAUGH! they can be a

particularly effective partnership


one hand forages a bag

for a fat chip while the other

waves in the air before

forging a phrase on paper


in tandem my greasy left

swipes crumbs off the page

smears two words into a

new idea for the right to write


then a five-fingered salt lick

creates enough pause to connect

two stanzas as fried flakes fall

onto my shirt and lap


when the whole chips are gone

it’s the three-fingered pinch

near the end of the poem

where timing is critical


I shake the bag into my hand

munch the last of the nonsense

tongue a loose letter

raise my oily pen and swallow

the last line often excavated

from a crack in the cushion

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