No McDonald’s wrappers, here.
Only quality sustenance will last through
twenty four hours of versifying.
Already, at hour six, we’ve been through
the four elements, Leonard Cohen,
mountains and Jesus, eternity and sand.
Already we’re repeating ourselves in every
stanza, but not attempting a villanelle, and
going back in time. That’s why they call it
a marathon. So I started with cantaloupe.
Then sugar snap peas and red, red radishes.
Yes, a radish is a radish is a radish. I can’t wait
to finish off the macaroons, Magruder’s finest.
I had two to test the flavors, raspberry and pistachio.
Cookies before noon, not a good idea. So I dip into
the chef salad, a strip or two of cheese, a cracker.
The fancy one with salmon I’ll save until the wee hours,
when only berries and ice cream will really hit the spot.
T.S. Eliot I’m not, but perhaps he once got a prompt
to write about cats, and more cats, and that was that.