Appetite

Spoon

64 Spoon It would be so indiscrete to interrogate the spoon unlike knife and fork who pass easily from hand to hand. Waiting with the glimmer of its round eye the spoon stands at beginning and end, soup or dessert a slow stir in coffee— who really knows its history? It belongs as much on the table as in the kitchen or by the sickbed, and two faced— concave, swollen— it gives measure. Back to front spoons show their svelte perfection, dancers, frozen under the light, before salutes pull them apart curtain falling, napkins rolling away. The spoon knows it all. All human mouths are pink deep where hunger and desire enter. ...