Cheese (aged Kilmerish)

I think that I shall never eat
A poem lovely as most cheese.

A cheese whose hungry body is prest
Against my taste buds, Mmmm – the best!

A cheese that sits with God all day,
And learns to sit, and sit, and age;

A cheese smoothly covered in waxy lacquer
Can be sliced and placed atop a cracker!

Upon whose bosom mold has sat;
Who intimately lives with fat.

Poems are made by folks like me,
But only cows, goats, sheep, buffalo,
and cheesemakers can make cheese!

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2021

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