Your glass is rattling,
A broken bell on the rocks,
But it is not time yet.
You scrape the meat to the side,
Then set down the knife, I
Call you in to cut the cake—
Red velvet, a flower arrangement
For you to gently pick at,
You lean over the counter
Grabbing a knife, I say
This time, I didn’t make it
Like you thought I had
Your heart on my cookie tray.
The one I store under the oven—
Four sides of twisted silvers,
The refrigerator keeping
Our temperament cool,
Just look at our reflection—
Bend in the light, a tiny basket
Holds moldy fruit;
Tonight it is going into the bin.
I tell you to open the freezer,
& as you lean I push you in—
Put you on ice for later.
