Who Will Eat All This Expensive Food?

Who will eat

All this expensive food?

I suppose

We should throw it out

But if we throw it out

And the peasants

Go through the trash

As they have done

A few times

They will be envious

Of the kinds of food

We’re eating

You do not want

The peasants uprising

Because they’d like to eat

Better food

The food they have

Is perfectly fine

But it’s not the kind of food

We have

And we don’t want

To rub their noses in it

By showing them

That most of the time

We barely even finish

Most of it

My solution would be

To set the food on fire

We can have the servants--

Well, I suppose

We can’t do that, can we?

Because the servants

Talk to the peasants

And if the peasants find out

We’re setting food on fire

In the private courtyard

We’ll have our heads

On spikes in no time

I suppose we could just

Let it rot until it’s indistinguishable

From gardening soil

And then we could plant it

But I suppose that would take

Quite a long time

And the smell in the meanwhile

Would be atrocious

We could just eat it

Of course

But, as usual

The guests got full

On some of the lovely bread

Our chefs make

And now all this expensive food

Has gone uneaten

And we need to dispose of it

And once again

It falls on my lap to do it

Are the dogs hungry?

Will they eat swordfish

And wild boar?

The dogs are barely

Ever hungry these days

And I have no idea why

Finicky dogs are not uncommon

In a castle

But these dogs of ours

Are very finicky

And I know for a fact

That Sir Gregory does not care

For wild boar

Let alone the truffles

We never got around to tasting

I could instruct the royal shovelers

To dig a hole in the dungeon

And bury all the food there

But if we keep that up

Every time the guests

Don’t finish dinner

We’ll have to dig up

Every floor in the place

It’s so hard being rich

I so envy poor people

Who eat potatoes

And nothing but potatoes

And finish every bite of it

Because they know

What it is to starve

One day the guests will come over

And I’ll serve them potatoes

And they’ll look at me

As though I’m mad

But that might show them

That not everyone

Has the privilege

To push back their chairs

And retire to the ballroom

For a dance

After consuming

Nothing but bread

It’s important to remind people

Every so often

That not everyone

Can dine finely

But the thought of teaching

Anybody that

Is so tiring to me

It makes me think

That a few holes

In the dungeon

Wouldn’t be

The worst thing in the world

I suppose if it’s that

Or potatoes...