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Making Cole Slaw

by Max Bouillet

Callous hands and crooked fingers
speckled with age
clutch a half head of cabbage.
Drenched with cold well water,
the head plucked in its prime,
before the wilt and rot
rape away its youth.
Envious are the angled fingers
that rend the head to and fro across the
grate. They rain shredded
youth into a bowl.

06/22/2003

Posted on 06/23/2003
Copyright © 2024 Max Bouillet

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Amanda J Cobb on 06/23/03 at 10:45 PM

Bitter. Very bitter. Compelling imagery.

Posted by Alex Smyth on 06/24/03 at 03:46 AM

Only the wizened hands can fully appreciate youth! Excellent contrasts!

Posted by Anne Engelen on 06/24/03 at 02:11 PM

Love it when a poem makes me ponder!! Great read.

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 06/24/03 at 04:06 PM

Excellent descriptiveness!

Posted by Agnes Eva on 06/24/03 at 04:52 PM

old hands, young cabbage head.. interesting metaphoric point of view

Posted by David R Spellman on 06/27/03 at 12:58 PM

A very interesting look at the contrast and envy of age and youth. Well done!

Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 06/28/03 at 12:09 AM

Wonderfully expressed analogy. Old age contrasted with youth. Regardless of defiance the aging process inexorably moves on.

Posted by Charles J Hannan on 06/30/03 at 03:22 AM

I picture my Grandmother and a summer's day...nice work Max!

Posted by Jean Mollett on 06/30/03 at 03:31 AM

Hi Max, Good one. I've used the graters, til I got a processor. Easier on the hands & wrist too. Much easier & faster. Jean

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