“Pieces of Silver” by J.I. Kleinberg (+ a giveaway)

“They dined on mince and slices of quince, which they ate with a runcible spoon.” ~ Edward Lear (The Owl and the Pussy-Cat, 1870).

For your delectation today, a sample poem from a new food poetry anthology, Savor: Poems for the Tongue, edited by Brennan Breeland and Stan Galloway (Friendly City Books, 2024).

I’m slowing making my way through this exquisite word banquet featuring 72 diverse poets from around the globe. Talk about food for thought and a feast for the senses!

From the sweet memories of grandmother’s kitchen to the spicy tang of street food in bustling cities, from the bitter taste of loss to the umami of love rekindled over shared meals, this collection plates up a spectrum of human experiences.

The table is set. Let’s eat!

Randolph Caldecott (“And the Dish Ran Away with the Spoon,” from Hey Diddle Diddle and Bye, Baby Bunting, 1882).
PIECES OF SILVER
by J.I. Kleinberg

I wonder how it is to be a spoon. To slip one curve
beneath, to gentle from its bowl a berry, slide edge-wise
into ice cream, into the warm cavern of a mouth.
How it is to both resist and hold flavor in the declension
of the body, to separate and deliver, to stir in clinking dance.
Friend to hand and tongue, to absinthe, to dish --
remember the cow? remember the moon?

Dulled-edged, round-toothed knives school in the drawer,
silvery herring, decorous for butter and condiments,
honey and peas, familiars to plate and tablecloth.
I wonder how it is to be a real blade -- remember the mice?
-- honed to hurt, to shear, stab, cleave. How it is to slice,
paper-thin, a gift for the tongue: fresh tomato, ripe peach.
How it is to be fanged, incisive, to be a surgeon for the truth.

How far we are now from nursery rhyme, from spooning
in the velvet-lined night. Implement taunts us, stainless
both praise and accession. Forklift, pitchfork, runcible spoon.
The drawer turned upside down, tarnished words noisy and futile.
Emily Post cannot resolve this clattered escalation of utensils.
Switchblade, forked tongue. What price a place at the table?

~ from Savor: Poems for the Tongue, edited by Brennan Breeland and Stan Galloway (Friendly City Books, 2024).
Jessie Willcox Smith (The Little Mother Goose, 1918).

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