Must I fight with food
My desire only to savor
cooked
Why must I fight with food
Meat fried so hard the
fork’s afraid
 |
| Some of Frances' favorite fruits |
Knowing it cannot pierce
outer layer
Fish fried dry to the bone
The oil feels so cheated
Demands its vanished self
back
Noodle so tasteless
The dog spews all out in
anger
The coffee so terrible
The mug jumps away fast
Refusing to be poured into
it
Why must I fight with food
Potato salad so horrible
The bowl flips over the
edge
Choosing to break itself instead
Why must I fight with food
I choose to avoid cooked
hereon
I choose to eat raw
vegetables
I choose to eat fruits,
not drink them
No one can bungle raw
--My dream has loved paper so much for so long because it gave influence to the parched voice of a fashionista poet. Finding this outlet, that voice is now replete with expressive sound.
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