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SERVED
i know i'm being used
but i want to be
useful; to serve a purpose;
to make something
for two; to dine on desire;
to taste the meat of meaning.
[sadly, i'm no vegetarian]
i may not make it myself,
i may not do the butchering,
but i do know how to cook
some things. i like it rare.
never well done.
have you lost your appetite?
or have you just found
a finer feast?
is she still feeding you?
sure, you go on
temporary fasts
hunger strikes
--everyone has to
eat to live
we haven't yet
tasted death--
maybe you're not hungry
for me. am i too bitter?
-sweet? or am i just
an acquired taste?
this silver platter
won't keep this dish warm
for much longer; i'm starved
and getting cold.
i would give you this
meal, on the house,
if you could stomach it.
otherwise, i'll be
content, independent,
dining alone..
and if i can't
finish the dish
there are always
hungry vagrants
around to pick away
at my left-overs.
but sometimes
the food goes bad.
i just stop eating,
sick of the same thing,
night after night.
there'll be no dessert
in this desert
if i can't get through
the main course.
nothing tastes the same
after such decadent candor.
still, i've learned to savour
the sand of secession;
a few grains in every bite.
i'm a fool to sit here,
waiting for you, at this
treacherous table.
heedlessly, i pour out
the milk of trust.
i will save it for you
and try to keep it cool,
even if it does go sour.
©Copyright 2004 Sheila Cook.