Sunny’s

Sunny's

The flinty tree bark scraping of peppercorns
flaking down to his eggs like soot in snow.
Yolky hollandaise with its dull wet gleam –
pleasure, heaped. Prongs pin the bread and rip
its flesh, prising filament shreds apart like fabric.
A salt-sweet bulge of foodstuffs on the tongue.
The deliriously mindless compulsion of eating,
thrusting ahead as if pulled by a conveyor belt.
Gluttony. Decadence. An ecstasy of minor tasks;
a sip of milky caffeine, or another mouthful
of sodden bread? Sponging the plate completely
clean. Butter fed, nourished to excess,
the lovers kiss in the street as cars pass
and prams are wheeled around and all of heaven
lowers its gaze in coyness and in envy.

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