Huh, Miss
She slipped from among us
in search of good hummus,
like a whispery breeze
at the scent of chickpeas;
escapes for tahini
rivalled old Houdini.
Her nose for good cumin
was simply inhuman,
her longings, appeasing
on lemony squeezings.
She never found fault
with a good pink rock salt,
and oft was caught splurging
on fine extra virgin.
But she went on a bender,
took a shine to a blender,
sliced her tongue on that trough,
and her hum is still off…
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