A Divine Meal
Janine Canan
I am an old fashioned type
who likes a meal to pass slowly,
not one of those modern hygienic or ancient ascetic types
who likes a soiled plate whisked away.
Fast is best when buying tickets to the movies
but not when eating the Goddess' own body
or blood from her wildly radiant vine.
I'm no puritan at mealtime.
I like my disheveled plate with a well-licked fork
sprawling satisfied across it,
a pause between each dish
for emptying my mind and manifesting a new one.
Conversation too I like, voices harmonically arranged.
And food--the kind that tastes good.
I love my senses sublime, and a good cook
is one of the million gods I worship.
No, I'm not one of the obsessionally obese
driven by deadly numbing lust
to devour every perfection.
I am an old fashioned type--
one of the immortals, like you.
Service, for me, is a sacred word.
Every room is a temple, every table an altar.
And frankly, I find the food served here simply divine.
