Tinned Fish, Lillian Gish

A quiet protein-rich dose of fish
Tamps down my natural inclination
To indulge in carb-wild and fattening
Arrays of items on a plate. I turn

The magic metal key, peel it away
To reveal smoked trout to plop atop
This fancy lettuce now splattered with 
Vinegar and oil while I practice

Saying nothing, expressing something
With just my face facing the crisp 
Leaves leaving ample room for
Interpolation of likely results thus 

Honor the star (not kissed) of silent film
Who gave to her art the whole of her
A model to watch and learn from while
Keeping the appetite nourished and intact.



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