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Frying pan

by Joe Nasta 12 months ago in performance poetry
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a poem about ruining things

Frying pan
Photo by Benjamin Kraus on Unsplash

Butter oil butter oil.

I used to cook in butter

Now I fry everything

In oil, olive or canola.


The pan pops & smokes

When I forget to add enough.

The oil pops onto my greasy

Stovetop, then it smokes.


Fan hood, low or high, the

Butter butter -- no, I grab

The almost empty bottle

And pour pour oil oil


Even though my food,

Cous cous and potatoes,

are already slightly burnt.

This poem is a part of my lunch poem series. During the month of December 2021, I will be reading poems by Frank O'Hara's Lunch Poems and writing some of my own. If you like this, check out my profile for more! And watch me read a poem by Frank:

performance poetry

About the author

Joe Nasta

Hi! I'm Joe (ze/zir), a queer multimodal artist and writer. I work in Seattle & I write love poems.

@roflcoptermcgee on Instagram

@joenasta on TikTok

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