Use what you have
~in your refrigerator
~ ~in your icy frozen chest
Don’t reject wilting greens
Don’t fill up the rotting wormy compost
First wipe the steel covered island
~brilliant with silver polished thread
Is she a poet or a cook?
~the cook never slows down
Her studio, a mile away, out of sight,
~in fact, is merely 35 steps away
Long ones, leaping ones
The cook insists: knife needs honing
~with that sharpening steel tool
she temporarily stands firm
Slash, slash, off comes the head
~the lettuce and brain melt into ghee butter.
The poet tries on different gloves
She cuts like an invalid
one too big the other too small
Enough says the poet.
Enough says the cook.
~go sit in the studio
She stares at the Cooked Poet
~swipes at the Crown of Thorns
Sometimes getting it all wrong
is the next best thing.