Gurgling quake,

the belly aches

a bum tum hungry

for whatever it can take.

Joy on a plate

and the best food

is smelled before it is seen.

Steak au poivre

and the juices all rolling

into the cognac sauce;

colcannon scooped with fresh butter

set beneath half a roasted chicken;

cherry-glazed grilled salmon

paired with an old Merlot;

Smith & Son’s bacon and cheese bratwurst

and corn-on-the-cob from a farm in the same county;

Mom’s homemade potato soup

and a Sunday afternoon luncheon

in the basement of the First Presbyterian Church

when they set out the little bowls

of cheddar cheese and bacon and green onions

and I took a handful of each and plopped them into the soup

and I went around again and made like it was my first time

and I plopped another handful of each into the soup

because I liked the way the cheese made the soup thicker

and how the bacon and green onions polka-dotted the soup

and when I scraped the bottom with my spoon and got every last bite

I got back in line and got some more.