Really just an exercise

But Hayley Campbell challenged me to write a sonnet about biscuits. You don’t argue with the GothDaughter, you really don’t.

BISCUITS

They snap between the teeth, are hard, then sag
to pulp upon the tongue. And some are sweet
Some go with cheese. Some broken in a bag
on market stalls. Some form a smug elite

are almost cakes, studded with nuts and bits
of dried fruit, chocolate coated, priced quite dear
Why Florentines though? Sometimes I think it’s
strange how we name them. Centuries of fear

of evil dynasts just two layers and cream?
Why bourbons? Why should sticky currants be
what makes a garibaldi? Such names seem
like last disturbing shreds of history

Nightmares from which we’re trying to awake
turned to the sweetest biscuits men can bake.

And that, BTW, is apparently written in the style of Isaac Asimov

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About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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5 Responses to Really just an exercise

  1. ffutures says:

    Asimov? All the questions, maybe?

  2. cmcmck says:

    Ah, the Garibaldi biscuit (known in this household as ‘fly pies’ :o)
    Apparently a take on the hardtack iron ration filled with dried fruit that the Garibaldisti took on the march with them if you believe the myth.

    • Odd fact about the Garibaldi biscuit: it was indeed invented for Garibaldi, but in France, and the first examples were presented to him by Alexandre Dumas pere, who went to Italy to escape his creditors and because he fancied meeting Garibaldi (he then decided to excavate Pompeii.)

  3. drjon says:

    Has anybody made the “Eddie’s the Gothfather” joke yet?

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