The Fork
This poem was read on American Public Radio and was chosen for inclusion in restaurant menus for National Poetry Month.

Let us pause to consider the fork,
Without which we'd finger our pork,
Our egg and zucchini,
Anchovy, weenie,
At Maxim's or Sardi's, New York.
A marvelous simple device,
Essential to dining as spice.
Invented in Switzerland,
By a man named Spitzer, and
Patented later by Weiss.
Spitzer died poor and anonymous,
While Weiss drew praise unanimous.
Invited to lecture,
Pontificate, conjecture,
On everything and anything gastronimous.
A lesson is here demonstrated;
You must protect what you have created.
You need lawyers, accountants and so on,
Tine and tide, as we say, wait for no one.
There, we've said it.
Aren't you glad that you waited.