Poems are indulgent.
Words come in so many edible formats.
Some are like lamb souvlakis,
Makes your tongue roll in recital.
Some are like chapatti, flatter
Than a pancake, and needs a little
Spicy imagination to go down
Your throat. Some are like a cob of corn.
Always served fresh, for the famished reader.
Others are like basmati rice,
Fine grains that are loose fitting
On appearance and yet are coherent
Beyond the imaginable. Still the worth
Of a poem is in the staple, the starch.
How words are chemically-bonded
Like chains of glucose rings,
And inside of you, they are catalyzed
By an arsenal of gut enzymes,
To yield individual units of sugar,
Filling the appetite of poets, those creatures
With an insatiable sweet tooth.