She Comforts Me

But I squirm,

Mother's not going to come
Or curve the rain
With an earthshaking sigh

Her willowy arms only
Lash themselves to back flesh

SCREAMS
"WILL YOU MARRY ME!?"
And slaps the bastard of
A confession bar's audio log
on the dining table -

All the cutlery jangles off,
All the plates and cups
And both of us

Jangle off

Leaving the sugar pot
As the last standing vessel
For a knife.

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