I will act on my food.
Eyeing it, spying it.
To sniff, whiff, and kiss aromas;
The old nose factory at work.
Then I’ll touch with a finger, or  Press with a fork.
Sensing resistance, persistence until  A giving softness allows me to puncture and lift
To my mouth where saliva,
Rushes in, ushers it to tongue and teeth. 
My cheeks catch it like a trumpeter catching air.   Then it’s gone, to turn to chime
And on and on and down, then out.

Paul Holland

[inspired by Still Life with fruit and calf’s tongue by Jan Davidsz. De Heem]