| Kitchen Blues I
Chop, chop
My eyes well up with
salty tears and I’ll be dammed if
I will let them go to waste
when I can use the onion guise
to mask my pain
when you don’t call,
or call and put me down
or never come
or come and sit
and drum your fingers as I talk
and leave me feeling more alone
than when you didn’t come at all
(First published in Lucidity, Summer 2007) |