Mange Tout (Poetry)

For starters: pure temptation on a platter
served with just a drizzling of guilt —
exquisite morsels begging to be savoured —
every scrap devoured — nothing spilt.

Second course: the fish agape with wonder
hooked on such an ordinary day
and landed in the soup of a dilemma
dreaming that it still might swim away.

Followed by meat sizzling in abandon —
fragrant in its agony of need —
the dish heaped high and, desperate with hunger,
they feasted hard as wanton gluttons feed.

The lies were sweet, the indiscretions chocolate,
love’s teasing fruit dissolving on the tongue
and rare the wine that fountained in their glasses
pooling when the bubbles were all done.

Afterwards, the cigarettes and silence
heavy with a gathering unease —
the sense they’d maybe been a trifle reckless
burning fierce and drowning by degrees.

Too late remorse when bile turns all things bitter —
betrayal flavours every dish insane —
it poisons every cup and nibbled pleasure
as lust consumes and swallows curds of pain.

Then aftertaste corrupts the jaded palate —
indulgence lingers sour on the tongue —
affection can afford a wholesome diet
but passion makes a pig of everyone.