My Chopsticks Are Talking To Me

I thought by writing this poem I could ramp up the cognitive demand I wanted to get down on paper The time my chopsticks talked to me They told me there is a towel On the flag of Belarus I was flabbergasted by this I dipped them in wasabi I imagined a scream Like a falling bomb I overheard someone Asking about the buffet I heard the name Emma Chizzit This was repeated several times With more and more intensity Then it was realised that this Australian woman was asking "How much is it?" Followed by my chopsticks Asking me about Moses How he makes his tea Hebrews it was the answer I paid the bill and left