[untitled]

She walked into the kitchen

breathing valentine I love you's

and throwing Godiva like it was some sort of god

I pretended not to notice her hair in her face

or the way she danced on the poetry of my crumbs

"I made a plate for you" I said

"mmm do I get jelly" she responded

At first I didn't recognize the question

it came in knotted morning speech

I was rearranging the poetry on the floor

the poetry that she had been dancing on since she entered the kitchen

the poetry not yet smothered in butter

I caught her eye

cherries fell

Godiva fell into the bacon pan

melted

coated the fat

I peppered our eggs and left the god to burn

 

 

 

Reviews

[Nyida Strong]

Sometimes I love your work from the get go. Sometimes I have to think on it, sometimes I just let the words carry me. This is one of those times. Though I'm not fully understanding the metaphores, if they are, I just allowed the words and images to carry me. Well done.

N. Strong