Poem: The Roast – 23/12/19

 The roast looks magnificent, 
 I can almost taste the glistening juice, 
 dripping down the sides as though 
 there is no other place for it 
 but before our hungering eyes. 
  
 I see you practically 
 salivating opposite me,
 between us the roast is 
 perched quite perfectly,
 
 a distraction,
 a piece of meat to catch your eyes,
 instead of falling upon me. 
  
 A wave of jealously: 
 how ridiculous! 
 How can I be upset that you’re 
 adoring a piece of cooked flesh?
  
 But it’s the intent behind 
 that stare that makes me
 pale behind the way you 
 usually look at me and assess.

 Perhaps I’ve grown too old a view —
 overfamiliarity can cause a rubbery chew.  
  
 © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
 also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.  

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