tHE wine won't wash down the dreary WEariness
of this
MEal
meant to NOurish so why am
I empty
the plates
grATE
teeth
clenched
fistS under napkINS
I fold
Dinner's COLD
as YOUr stARE.
submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Avant Edge: e.e. cummings
*
Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen
1 comment:
Ha. Very appropriate...:) Have a nice appetite!
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