The Wine Glass

There's a wine glass on the table
to the right of my plate, presumed mine,
a part of the place setting, a formal table.
There's a wine glass on the table,
my wine glass. It's assigned to me, but more...
it calls my name. The servers don't care.
I can take it as they serve or wave them off.
It's not that I can't drink just a little,
that I'm addicted to it or anything.
It's not on my food plan just because

It's not on my food plan because
when I drink a little I get started eating
and I eat and eat and take all the desserts,
falling way back into the food.

There's a wine glass on my table.

It's not that I deserve to have the wine,
that I have earned it by following my plan.
It's that I'm looking at the "deserving"
in taking things I don't need
and not in turning down those items
that pull me into obsession.
There's a wine glass on the table.
But I don't need to use it.