The Problem of Writing a Poem in the Shape of a Wine Glass
It was a love that came together
through the use of receptacles;
for he had his beer goggles on
and she, her rosé-tinted spectacles.
The day the driver from Ocado
was late with her escargot,
Margot exhibited great bravado.
She had an insight into the plight
of the starving of Africa
as she waited patiently
for her celeriac and paprika.
She could see how
civilizations might fail
through focaccia gone stale
and for want of some kale.
And she thought to herself sadly
of those who sat drably
sipping on the dregs
of last night’s Chablis.
With some charity or other,
she set up a small direct debit
and then stoically rustled up
a smoked haddock rarebit.