The Sybaritic Course

A petit four, or five, all tray,
pink strip smoked salmon, more, whole fish,
glass Sauvignon or Chardonnay
from box dispenser on the side;
then steak and kidney, suet style,
gold treacle pudding, down side up,
to finish, stilton, glasses, port,
le petit déjeuner indeed.

Or is it grandma with grandkids,
the biscuits, sweets and other treats
that throws all routine to the winds?
E numbers ruin discipline –
I did rebuke her at the time
for surreptitious secrecy,
as guilty mask had told it all,
as soon the raving children would.

Our oldest, coins on the tree
unwrapped them all, as fairy saw,
his bedtime milk of chocolate,
then reshaped foil, so mint again,
but bilious throughout the night;
a punishment known as of now
by use, foil wrappers, dragon chase,
and that to foil cold turkey sweats.

The road to Canterbury, tales
whose Pardoner is here again,
with booming sales, indulgences,
foundation practice for Reform.
Permission, in advance, to sin,
a credit note held in account,
but only after church is bought,
enough to seek another lore.

It is a craving in itself
in old style discourse, wringing hands –
ever so humble, creepy snake,
beseeching me, Uriah Heap.
Unless it’s over- food of course –
the starter, main, then sweet, cheese board,
swirl brandy snifter with cigar,
too much of self, too little, health.

Published by Medusa’s Kitchen, 20th May 2024

https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/05/sybariticism-for-monday.html