Slotted Spoon

Food Poems

Because you’re not a nincompoop
You comprehend the slots:
You air-lift wontons from a soup
Or gather meatballs in a group 
And let the perforated scoop
Leave liquid in the pots.

Because you have a high IQ
The metaphor is plain:
You dip your hindsight in a stew
Of memories and choose those few
That elevate and flatter you.
The rest go down the drain.

—Henry Rathvon

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