if poems were cookies
and fiction cakes and pies
eating our words
would be an eternal temptation
not good for us, of course:
sneaking into bookstores for a quick bite
can get you put on a strict diet!
as author-cooks
we'd send the half-baked
or smoldering
ideas to the small press
as some of us do now
I don't think I'd compost as many
false trails as I do
I'd gain weight, I fear:
rolls of fat upstairs
especially those adjectives
I should have trimmed off
before I set the cuts afryin'
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