The Best Precautionary Measure
What’s the best precautionary
measure she could think of?
She closed her eyes and sighed;
when they opened they were wide –
as if they’d seen a treat.
She’d barely missed a beat.
“The best precautionary measure,”
she replied, “is surely pleasure.
Pleasure is the treasure.”
From what she’d carried in that day,
her fruit de printemps roast poulet,
tout fraiche! (her word, as ‘twere,
made flesh) – not only had she had
her say: she’d cooked it.