Poem by Beth

 

[from the March, 1999, workshop]:

Ode to Spud

I had a little purple spud
I grew it from an eye
I cut it once and cut it twice
and twice it few another bud
And 6 more times
And 12 more cuts
Then boiled it made a pie.

I had a purple cabbage
Then an onion and a bean
I cut them once and cut them twice
But no eyes grew
From any slice
And onion made me cry.

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