03 March 2010

He Speaks Again

there he was again, this time
between the honey and the

olive oil (first of the season) in the pantry, his tongue
tripping thick over his words.....it's

too cold, entirely, on your fire escape,
he says, and where is that cup of tea

I was wanting?

as she slops it into pale blue china,
German, gold-rimmed, the service

incomplete, sugar bowl smashed (how?)
and the sherds pressed into that
mosaic of broken things

and so, he lists her faults, as she
taps the tip of her shoe against the tile,
planning his last meal

No comments: