Kevin Cadwallender

Sprinkle Pepper on the Books

Sprinkle pepper on the books,
Slice and dice and fry them lightly,
A little salt will sting but heal,
If books were money you’d hold on tightly.

Set the table for a three course novel,
I’ll start with the poems I wrote for me,
Not with the poems I wrote in anger
But the ones I thought you’d never see.

You’ll need a tougher knife
For the dessert, it’s hard
And not hunger only greed,
That swallows up the miles of fiction,
Unpalatable truth won’t help you feed.

Sprinkle pepper on the words,
Wash them down with something chilled,
A little salt will add to the flavour,
Assuage the guilt of what you’ve killed.

It doesn’t take much to cut an artery.
It doesn’t take much to cut a throat.
It doesn’t take much imagination,
To keep a sinking boat afloat.

Sprinkle pepper on the books,
Eat them until you’ve had your fill.
Pay the bill, which is not the price
It costs for you to make this kill.

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