Food

If I had the time I would pile
sweet creams and delights
of edible architecture upon the white glass plates
that you bought for me on the day that we first met.

I would offer you caramel brown sauces,
and mint scents, red jellies and courses
of elaborate designs, like crystal spires
of crisp sugar scaffolding,
that sparkle like child-eyes.

If I had the days, or just a morning for love
I would paint for you such patterns
of aroma and anticipation, in roasted meats
and earthy roots, with warm fatty juices
and sups of rich wine.

I would climb out of bed and be happy, again,
and look, with a kind light upon the white glass plates
that you bought for me on the day that we first met.

I would climb out of bed, with strength,
and cook spaghetti, with green oil,
and mascarpone meringue, drizzled with chocolate in fine lines,
like time on the skin,
like the time that I don't have now
for food.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.