I’ll never tire of eating,
of dressing myself as a table
a placemat,
a cup of water drooling from the corners of my mouth
bread thighs
a soup between my legs,
you ask for seconds, a hopeful glutton
I am a meal of things past expiration
a too unripened
a too sweet
a just right
a lukewarm
brittle cakes for breasts
marinated legs, a trophy kill
lips of Escargots a la Bourguignonne
I am unsalted butter
parsley, white wine, brandy, garlic cloves and shallots masticated
You are the pepper and salt.
You’ll never tire of eating.
‘
