originally published 2011
While yet married to a dish
the spoon ran off with the fork
to elope into a knife
cut-throat marriage-
going feeding porkishly
at Las Vegas buffets
and drinking glass
after glass martinis and wine-
gambling the night away.
It wasn't until the cow
jumped over the plate perfect
moon that spoon thought of his
dish back home,
probably by now dirtied
with tears and peas, as
the big dipper
above the brightly lit strip,
and small dipper below
his belt, somewhat aroused-
where the little dog laughed
to see such sport,
when the spoon and fork
slipped between the sheets
of a napkin.
