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.