Palpably Inadequate

You carefully consider

Maris Piper or Jersey Royal,

lost in thought ― 

somewhere in the Channel Islands.

I look sideways at your foraging.

Del Monte, cat food ― 

you can tell so much

from the contents of a lonely cart.

You choose a kind King Edward,

as I pretend to be interested in whole oats.

I feel the precision of your choice

in my throat.

I see you being swept away,

smoothing olive oil on the skin ― 

a good slow roast ― 

cheeky potato salad for one.

tk/July 2013 

Thank you  R.A.D. Stainforth for expertly reading this poem.  

photo by Agustin Berrocal 

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