there’s always hope with enough
butter and bacon, all gluten free!
who knew, until the sellers told us,
of this ubiquitous poison in our bread?
and not just for an unlucky few, those
with identifiable disease, but for all
of us—go gluten free and you’ll feel
better—go free of anything fool
and you’ll feel better, if you’re so held
that the word “free” fairly applies. I
never knew my grandfather, dead
from a coronary before I was born. They say
he’d circle the table eating the scraps of fat
from all the plates. Today he’d be a paleo
hero- except for the being dead part, which is,
of course, where we are all headed.
How our conception of sin has diminished
in this age without boundaries- come love
let us pull down the shades and turn out
the lights. You can rub my back with butter
and I will lick the bacon from your lips.
We’ll make of ourselves a sandwich
and dream the dream of forbidden tastes
while we await the banquet of dawn.
© Old Bones, New Snow/J.A. Fink 2014
