O Holey Fork

O Holey Fork,

My holey fork,

How I cherish thee,

Your broken perfect form.

Though it's not how you were intended to be,

Your naked handle fits perfectly in my hand.

Clothed in blue, I'm told you were,

Once upon a time.

But stripped of hue,

You gleam new -

A unique work of art,

Not one of four,

But true to you.

My one of one,

All my own,

You comfort me daily.

When the days are hard and the struggles long,

I know you're there at home.

O Holey Fork,

You are holy to me too.

I see halos, all sizes,

In your classic circle cut-outs.

Your whole handle - mostly empty space,

Yet solid in my hand.

A handle with holes.

I love it.

It's quirky, not straightforward.

The kind of story you read twice.

O Holey Fork,

While you may look unfinished to others,

You look full and complete to me.

Each circle in your metal

Is a new window from which to see -

The world,

My dinner,

The words on a page.

Most people can't read a paper through their fork,

But I'm not most people -

And you aren't their fork.

O Holey Fork,

I feel honored

To have you

As an eating companion -

To have and to hold -

Forever and always.

See you at mealtime.