Remembrance of Things Pasta
Brian Bilston

She blew her fusilli,
my pretty penne,
when she found me watching
daytime tagliatelle.

Je ne spaghetti rien,
I responded in song,
but she did not linguini
for long,

just walked out
without further retort:
a hard lesson to be tortellini,
orzo I thought.

And so here I am,
all on my macaroni,
and now my days
feel cannelloni.

Find this poem online at Brian Bilston’s website