Voice for Who

Over voice,
parmesan. Salt
and age and pepper,
expensive haircut.
Romaine, let us 
have our dressing
and be naked on
the side. Disdain
cranes its neck
to see that its
fellow seeds
have been 
ground down
to make a less 
than fecund whole.
Speak up, ceramic.
The plate is not 
tectonic enough 
to deny your 
fork. The left
left itself in
hindmost fore
thought when it
determined to 
become the spot
where the knife 
could twist 
the spoon.