The sign read “Wanton Soup,” clearly misspelled,
Inviting one for dumplings served in broth.
I must confess my appetite was quelled
Imagining the culinary froth

That would be violent soup, like cruelty,
Assembled with malicious unconcern,
Or lewd and lawless soup whose novelty
Entices all to taste and end up burned.

And yet such soup could be luxurious,
So fine of texture, sumptuous of taste,
That first bite could be something glorious-
Perhaps my trepidation is misplaced.

For wanton’s a delicious word, I know
That such a soup would be equally so.