POEM - Feta Nachos

You know feta isn’t really a melting cheese

I sprinkle my comment on the silence

Hoping to add a little texture

Out of fear

Of the blandness of silence

Across the room the carousel spins

In its contained room

Intermittently filled with intensity

From the waves of radiation

Escaping into the space

Restructuring the food

On a sub-atomic level

That’s how I picture it

For today it will do

Tomorrow

Tomorrow it will be ray guns

Fired from hidden windows

That only become operational

When the glass platter spins

An endless treadmill

Upon which my plate of food

Runs the obstacle course

Sometimes falling

To the crisscross of enemy fire

Other times hiding in sheltered coves

Only to emerge unblemished

It is in these times

Of uneven heating

Of feta laced nachos

I must resort to radical theories

Sure that any other conclusion

Would just cheapen the experience

In the end the cheese melted

Dairy often can’t stand the heat

But there were interesting results

Some surviving cubes intact

Others less fortunate and vindictive

Took down victims with them

As underlying layers of once rigid chips

Emerge devoid of structural integrity

Some aspect of the goat milk base

Tragically degenerating them

I slurped them up any way

And in the slurping found

Pleasure flavored with serendipity