ode to beets

they say
that if you beet your woman
you love her

they say, looking over
the purple manger

there is strangeness in all recipes
lest she partake of the beets
of a stranger

with a little balsamic vinaigrette
make the words forget
make the spittle run
turn over and bake
with a little rum

run, run, ein zwei
total shit, madam