You start with stocks or pillories, I forget,
Celery, carrots, adultery, and shame.
Noodles, of course, and breasts or bits of thigh,
Steeped and simmered, exposed and ridiculed
And made to represent healthy choice and sin
And dreams of crepuscular orange and azure strolls.
Have another, you look so thin, you have
Tomato on your forehead—someone’s aim
Was pretty good after all. Have you been thinking
About what your father said? You have to speak
After it’s done, you know: what separates
Us from the lower beasts is chat. And veg,
Plucked from their beds at pleasurable peaks,
Simmered and skimmed and pricey past all pearls.
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