Willing ears

Words slip, and trail off your tipsy tongue, and land into my willing ears, ears that begin to chew down on every syllable, snapping your words in half, discerning the little halves. all edible, all delectable, and even though my body can’t digest it all at once, I’ll ask if you can talk a little…


The unwanted tailor, Arch nemesis. to my inner childlike sailor.          


Bumble, I fumble, and try to chase the vicious words, that rumbled from my stomach, up my throat, and into our treasured jungle, our space, and I have to watch your face, tumble, tumble, that, my words stuck to you and forced the first piece of your smile to, crumble, crumble.  

(Our) Last Meal

I picture our last meal together, Something like this. I’ve burnt the edge to your fried egg Just the way you like it A little crunch And slipped some ghee around the pan, So it skates, coats and waits to be swallowed. And you stand beside me making my coffee the way I like it,…