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