Tag Archives: drawing

burnt toast
you didn’t come home
until the very next day
you shuffled in, electric
energy from other hands
still circling your
ashamed feverish head
like Saturn’s halo
your naked finger tapping,
rubbing worn-thin
too-expensive
rust red trousers
dodging questions, dodging
glances: a sideways
dagger-eyed bride
children circle like
knowing natives,
moon round faces,
pool and threaten to overflow
you reassure them,
I provoke, compensating,
like a surgeon, I cut in
monologging interrupted
by your cell phone,
it jumps and sways and
moans under the weight
of its ripe truth;
toast is made and burned
and remade
salty thick peanut
butter on fingers and lips,
like forever,
six in the morning,
it was your birthday
toast always burned,
i like it better that way.