I am stuck
In a pot of country stew:
Bubbles as thick as petals,
Carrot tops glaring red,
Taters as soft as soil,
Onions sweating riverbeds.
There is just so much going on
In this deep curry reef.
And I treasure every ingredient.
But the Chef tells me,
"Something has to go.
You must rid the one that spoils
In the heat
Or else you’ll be having 
A toxic brew of meat."
I know I have to sacrifice the beef.
But why scoop it out now,
When I savored the taste for so long?
But there has to be something better;
As I lift my wooden ladle --
Steam vanishing at the touch
Of my trembling cheeks --
There just has to be.


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