Taste: A Poem by Richard Morgan

99 cent New York pizza

I've no taste for it at any price

I’m happier over there in England

With the hopelessness and irony

And the peerless Vindaloo (on rice)

You know what they say about me?

That my best work is behind me

And is clearly out of fashion

Yet some notable from Yale

Writes to me - quite reverently

Citing my "towering reputation in the field"

I was not aware, my darling

I had no idea, I swear

I just work now to survive

Thousands of colleagues saving lives

Child death rates fall, that’s all I care

These working years are almost gone

This is written for the one to come

Who might some day be wondering

What her loving Dad was thinking

In the evenings he would leave her

For the late night flight to England

For a sweet taste of the sullen atmosphere.

*****

Click here for more poems by Richard Morgan