by Christopher Walsh, 6/27/2018-6/28/2018
One of the porks is slightly different from others
Mouth-feel is distinct from bacon, for ex’
Though you may eat those, if this would fit your druthers
One pork or another, tastebuds still get suplexed
Get it cooked, get it sliced, get it all honey-glazed
If you'd like, adding sweetness to meat
It's good that in cooked form, it's going to get praised
’Cause it wouldn't work well as a sheet
The word for it's "ham," and it's built like a pig
Low-slung and rounded, except for the h
If you're a ham-eating fan, you may dance a jig
Leap over a barn, shorten Rachel to "Rach"
You celebrate your way, I celebrate mine
In all ways we pay tribute to ham
Its pleasures are never at all Byzantine
Except, maybe, when plated with clams.
(Hi! I'm not a cook. I ain't no gourmet
Who maybe would too know that works
But I hope our pork-love will not lead us astray.)
(There. I've poemized ham. I can smirk.)
* * *
(written because I'd seen a Mary Oliver poem called "Hum" and read it as...)
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