Dishes


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Dishes and dishes and dishes

Snails satured in garlic butter
Pocket of breadcrumbs
Liquors of cream and fruit and futility
Bagels freshly toasted and dressed in jams
Cartons of watery oranges
Straws that dangle from thirsty lips
All things strolling on the breeze
Branches with heavy stumps upon branches thick and limber
Snakes unraveling Irish greens
Growing on Spring

On this dish are lamb sausages
On the other dish is french bread from the trash
On her dish is pride
On that one is goat cheese hiding in mesculin
On his is misfortune
And so it goes these handsome treats
Sour as the mozzarella unwrapped and expired
Its palored complexion and semi-tenderness
So tempted to taste with little to expect
Except
A dish of sourness

I’m never left malnourished
As rows of dishes and dishes and dishes
Uphold palatable tragedies

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