poetry by j matthew waters


Vinegar, red pepper and salt,
conceived and concocted with care,
bring delight to the tongue
when properly mingled
with Worcestershire, celery and juice.

Mary befriended me when she was a virgin,
taught me the phrase: ‘hair of the dog….’
Not until the morning after
did the adage appear as a revelation
when the leftover lager mixed itself with tabasco.

The addiction grew like a weed and teased
me in spirits; found itself in sauces,
casseroles and fried entrées.
The tiny bottles wouldn’t last three days;
twelve pack cases were stored in the pantry.

The habit persisted until the day
Mary would not bleed
when the taste for vinegar, red pepper and salt
was replaced by sweet acidophilus milk.

nineteen ninety-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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6 thoughts on “Tabasco

  1. Norma Waters on said:

    Oldie but a goodie!

    Sent from my iPhone

  2. A baby. ❤

    Boy do they ever change your life. This is about to make me cry, thinking about how instantly and radically I changed my life when I "wouldn't bleed."

    Such a strong piece.

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