A meal in a Chinese buffet

It all goes well

until the subject of conversation turns 

to matters of summertime:

and then 

she accuses you of lying,

and the accusation 

is so compete 

and the aggression 

is so neat

that there is nothing you can say

to make it work 

any more.

She is mad as the hurt ever did curt;

as mad as the sneak 

ever did do;

as mad as the battering partner

ever was to you.

So mad there is only breakage to contemplate;

total and unutterable dislocation;

a final goodbye and just 

no sighs at all.

No calling of love nor precious dedication;

just the cold of untruth in the defence of


Leave a reply:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s