My Dover Sole Is Patched And Frayed

My Dover Sole is patched and frayed-
A melancholy bit of fish.
Five Sundays saw them bear it forth
From walk-in fridge to chafing dish

Now on the crowded table it waits
Praying not to see a sixth
While dishes empty on either side-
Cheesy potatoes, Eggs Benedict.

Release takes unexpected form-
A swift intake of breath, a sneeze.
The patrons notice little
But each one’s fate is shaped by these.

I’ve always heard one thing that makes Emily Dickinson’s poems distinctive is they can be sung to either “The Yellow Rose of Texas” or “Moonlight In Vermont“. I used Miss Dickinson’s poems as the model for this one. Try singing it. Did I get it right?


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