SOME lopped ears and lips and worse
Packed in fat and forced into tins with
Aspic. You serve it, call it
Meat? You're fuckin' A!

Spiritual viand: rose of the breakfast table.
Pigs give their hearts for this
And I pray to the goddess
Many thanks again and again.

Simple fare, yes. No truffle, no
Pomegranate wine, nor bechamel.
An egg or two with bacon, spuds,
Maybe a slice of rye toast.

Previously published in A Limousine to Nowhere (Street Press, 1994).