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Hail potatoes, full of starch,

The polymer of glucose.

The alpha-glycosidic linkages

Make you an excellent source of energy.



Holy cow, from the loin of a beef,

You were killed in your prime

And hung up from the ceiling for a few days

In a cold, cold room.

The actin and myosin fibers

Make you chewy

Even after the passing of rigor mortis.



Hail, steak knife, of stainless steel.

I don’t know what to say,

You are always there

Right next to the fork

That is by my plate,

On the napkin,

On top of the place-mat

Which rests on the table

Amen.