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.
.
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