Twirl

remember when your mother
cooked spaghetti for the family?

ill bet you have fond
memories of it...

slick your fork into the pasta
with its pointed mirror pricks, and
meet it to the rusty
veggies, russet
colored meats.
dig and twirl and
use a napkin.
never been so neat.
hesitate to take a drink,
marvel at the comedy, the chuckle of the ice
and how it washes out the kinks that
every noodle noodle noodle ties.

and if ever you can really finish-

let them fall your clanky silverware.
let them drain your throat the drooling pasta bits.
let them coat your brain the bits and fall into abyss.
allow yourself unbuckled belts and bellies barely bare.
afforded you, aren't you so happy, the pleasure to stay there
and pat your belly once or twice, to sleep against the chair!