Day in, day out:
Eggs, flatbread, olive oil,
fish
O, yellow saffron!
Gold-crowned spice
Meal across town,
dark night air,
I may need
some kind of salad-y thing too
Fresh-baked loaf,
sardine,
salt: Fine? Coarse?
What difference does it
make?
Picnic basket full, brimming
, olive,
fig, pomegranate, bergamot orange,
chestnuts, though Atthis, my love,
scorns them, claims an “allergy”
More pots!
smashed,
smashed, smashed, smashed!
All my pots: smashed
Breakfast: Fruit, bread,
wine to dip bread,
wine to drink,
back-up wine
Sweet honey cakes,
Herbs to cure Atthis, ill,
puked all over the good pillows,
her allergy as real as
rosy-fingered Dawn.
Aphrodite smile on these
plums,
let them ripen, before
I forget I bought them
Something to clean up
spilled breakfast wine.
Foolish
Sausage, oak acorns
radishes, turnips, and carrots,
are these bad foods,
for a new lover (gassy)?
Asparagus, celery, fennel,
garlic, onion, and herbed
how dare you
say my soups are bland?
Perfumed body oils, sage, mint, and
squid, cuttlefish, prawns, crayfish
Sappho: careful, and place them
in separate baskets
Need more peas —
Atthis threw them away,
scattering like stars.
She yells,
no one likes mashed peas!
Rabbit, cooked —
And fast! To salvage
this nightmare dinner
with my boss
Ink, more papyrus—
too many grocery lists