Good things come to those who wait
on rich tables, wrapping leftovers
in crumpled napkins,
lapping up spilt milk,
and biting the hand that tips
water into the wine.
She takes the prize. The prize
is a cake and she takes it.
No meek bread-eater she,
having her cake
and eating it too. Right there,
in front of the hungry.
Justice is best served as a dessert
and so he eats his just deserts
straight out of the frying pan,
scarcely noticing his scorching lips
and tongue, already savouring
another dish, best served cold.