The spoon weaves, teasingly,
But the game soon dissolves
Into mealy-mouthed frustration.
Cheeks stuffed full of unwanted, overprocessed
Nonsense. Mush, where real nutrition
Ought to be. The dilemma: swallow or spit?
The biggest challenge is not even
The blandness of the taste itself
But the endlessness of the oncoming drivel.
What shall we do today?
Eat like a numbly obediently child?
Or send the whole thing back to the kitchen
With the offended disgust of a true connoisseur?
Note: This is a poem from my series of learning new words. This is one I read for the first time this week in Anthony Anaxagorou’s poetry collection ‘Heritage Aesthetics’, and it is such a great bit of vocabulary that I find myself wondering how I managed so long without it.