For those of you who are Sylvia Plath fans, please don't take this piece as an insult to that great poet. This poem is a one-stanza parody of "Tulips," her haunting memory of how she felt when she was lying in a hospital bed, awaiting major surgery, and it is intended solely for fun.

 

 

 Bagels

        by Marc Pollitt

The bagels have too much leavening, they are chewy now.
See how slow breakfast sales are, how dull, how sneered-at.
I am mixing matzoh flour, cursing to my wife loudly
While the help bags those poor bagels, my life, my trade.
I'm a franchisee; all my items can be found elsewhere.
I have taken the name of my trademark up to the papers
And my finances to the merchant banker and my pride to mothballs.

 

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©2001 by Marc Pollitt, all rights reserved