The Onlooker

Why do you look upon me with reproach, two-eyed fried eggs? I swear, only hunger and hopelessness have led me to encroach into the kitchen. The quite pushy monger, who sold me a used cornucopia from China, promised me a Peking duck. Alas, a mustard and a cowpea are all what drops out if to say “potluck!” according to instructions… My onlooker, my oversalted prayer, my lone prey, my bitter daily bread, forgive the cooker, whose wife not long ago passed away. A sleeplessness, a heartburn, an egg white in frying pan, an endlessly long night. 30/07/2019 Cornucopia Cooking Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke