Sometimes you write a poem that is so clearly made to be spoken rather than written, and loads of my poems are like that. So I’m trying something slightly new with this one. It’s called Dessert Spoon, and you can hear me speak it by watching the video, or if you prefer you can read the words below.
I still include a dessert spoon when I lay your place at the table.
It’s a simple act of resistance,
An insistence of non-compliance and defiance,
A little piece of order against the eating disorder.
I still include a dessert spoon when I lay your place at the table.
It is a prayer I pray, a declaration I make,
A belief that one day,
This will end and as you mend we will again share a decadent pudding with friends.
I still include a dessert spoon when I lay your place at the table.
I know you’ll relearn that it’s ok to yearn,
To stuff your face, to take up space,
To say what you want, to claim your place,
To be full to bursting, to give yourself grace.
I still include a dessert spoon when I lay your place at the table.
Otherwise it reminds me of when someone dies,
One less fork, one less knife, one less life.
But you’re still alive and you’re still inside,
I know because I see it sometimes.
I still include a dessert spoon when I lay your place at the table.
I want to show you, want you to know that I still hold hope.
That this doesn’t define us but I think it could refine and align us.
That however much it aches and however long it takes I will wait,
That if you choose it and fight your way through this, recovery awaits.
