Scrappy

Do Not Throw Bento into That Food Fight

with a nod to Dylan Thomas

Do not throw bento into that food fight.
No sage would add sashimi to the fray.
Gauge, gauge what kind of viands should take flight.

Though pies men make of cream are hurled in spite,
Because these men have other cravings they
Do not throw bento into that food fight.

Rude men who save, fast only that they might
Let sail sous vide, perchance green crudités
Gauge, gauge what kind of viands should take flight.

Rude men who fought and sang with appetite
And send, in haste, rare morsels on their way
Do not throw bento into that food fight.

Brave men, hot-breathed, who see it as their right
To seize both fish and flesh as missiles for their prey
Gauge, gauge what kind of viands should take flight.

And you, my brother, there in your mad plight,
Confess what waste would pierce you with dismay.
Do not throw bento into that food fight.
Gauge, gauge what kind of viands should take flight.



Picking through Trash on a Sunday Evening

with a nod to Robert Frost

Whose goods these are I think I know.
I guess he doesn't need them though,
Or else he wouldn't leave them here
To be hauled off by friend or foe.

My wife called: I should get in gear
To come on home and have a beer
And take less than I'd thought to take—
Still worth less than it might appear.

She tells me I should take a break
As if bills did, for goodness' sake.
Our bank account could make me weep
And we squeak by on what I make.

The goods are likely worn and cheap,
But I have lots to sort and heap,
And piles to stow before I sleep,
And piles to stow before I sleep.

by J.D. Smith

in volume 5 issue 1

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