For Ray Freed

by Jim Tyack

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.

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