She really said "Qu'ils mangeant de la brioche!"
A bread with milk and eggs in it, almost like cake
Before they cut off Marie Antoinette's head
When they told her her people rioted for bread
The wages of the sin of eating dessert first are death
I hear women say that their baby is allergic to cow's milk
Or that they cannot afford formula
Knowing the fate of Marie Antoinette
I almost shrink from suggesting the obvious
Have you noticed those things hanging in front of you?
The ones everybody's not supposed to stare at or sexualize
Because their main function is feeding a baby?
Suffer the little children to come unto me1
For I am the bread of life2
My milk, my eggs, all mixed in with the meal
You may have my cake and eat it, too
Take my yolk...please3!
The joy of dining with a truly intimate friend
Unsullied by the cold formality of jackets, napkins,
Tablecloths, serving dishes, choosing the right wine
And remembering to pick up the right fork
The one time in life when it's okay to eat dessert first
And staring at cleavage is actually encouraged
Perhaps those who began life with dessert
Are not worried when not every meal has one
They already trust the sweet satisfaction
Even if they don't experience it every day
Those who missed it tremble with yearning
Even with dripping fork still in fingers' grip
And grow fat, even as they starve away to nothing
3Henny Youngman Jesus Chicken, Matthew 11:29
April is National Poetry Writing Month
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