right hip swung out, be/tween stove and stainless sink
she wipes the tear that rides her bottom eye-lash navigating her jaw line
perhaps the onions/perhaps not, rut cycle, clothes in the machine begin theirs
the timer shrills, oven is hot, grabs the carcass (poor thing) wishes she was vegetarian
hot meal on table by six thirty daily/routine never changes,longing for summer rays, salads, she casts her mind to crisp lettuce leaves grown from earth/not a pulse or breathing to be sliced and diced – door opens/wipes her hands, checks the clock, takes a breath/puts on the smile, footsteps, briefcase slammed down/hi-hi/bedroom,change of clothes/another ritual, same old same old, how was your day, asked if she cares – she really doesn’t any longer, swearing/footsteps/how was your… that incompetent Frank/her eyes glaze, for a moment her mind retraces the yesterday’s, the kisses/ her face cupped within his hands, compliments – both said it wouldn’t happen/both promised, but it appeared before either knew/took the time to change/stop the process of the spiral, oven hot/she remembers when his leg locked around hers/dipped her – tango style and told her she was
©jmtacken Jan 2014
For Sam’s ‘last post’ at http://dversepoets.com we were asked to write a prose poem, my attempt with a nudge and a poke from the fab B.Miller.