And I find myself somewhere between white bread
And burnt toast
Still edible but maybe not palatable?
Scrape a bit over the sink
Looking for salvage…salvation
Maybe something's still there
All carbon based…
The beets from the market look on
Then quickly looks away
They had their day bright and leafy
Now wilted limp of leaf
Hoping that the flesh of the root
That stains fingertips burgundy
Might still make a meal that one could sit down to.