A pile of spaghetti with sauce and pork

Heaped before me, I twirl my fork.

I'm careful, precise, and usually neat.

For I realize that sauce is a danger to eat.

I've heard people warn, without a doubt

That thick, red sauce almost never comes out.

With confidence and a bit of flair

I dip my fork into angel hair.

Smoothly, calmly, with unyielding grace

I grab the fork and stuff my face

But with titanic effort the sauce breaks free

And slowly plummets, mightily!

Too late now to stop the fall

I realize that sauce will conquer all

In slow motion through the air

Slowly falling almost there

My mother groans

My sister shrieks

It rattles my bones

I cannot speak



I feel ashamed. I'll hide my head

For my new white shirt is now partly red.

My tedious efforts have all been wasted

By the bit of sauce I should have tasted.