The trouble with eating in class

26 March 2008

Billy Collins is a lean and tender
T-bone steak, best served rare
with a side salad and something light;
perhaps a sweet Cabernet Franc.

It should not be served with inordinate
amounts of BestWest Steak Sauce,
as if a bottle of that
could sharpen the wit of him.

Principles of Biology has left
a dry aftertaste, and I sit down
salivating for a succulent cut
of the real meat.

Unfortunately, my teacher cooks
experimentally,
and with Sunflower hot-mitts she serves
to us Lecture 29:

Poetry Meatloaf. Which is not
fresh or moist or seasoned right.
But I am hungry. And she doesn’t seem
to have anything else on hand.

Shakespeare in bite-size bits and
Collins ground in with Nash
and something green that doesn’t
seem to belong to anyone

all garnished with slivered Poe
and a slimy ketchup marinara.
It slices neatly and leaves no crumbs
and everyone tucks in quietly.

Except my vegan study partner
who sips her Algebra noisily.
I choke a bit and try
To swallow gallantly.

Meatloaf is barbaric.