“She looks at me blank”

A ruby glaze of
strawberry jam
rings her mouth.
It is just her lipstick
but I can taste it clear as a cough drop.
A thousand fledgling nights of Summer.
Chasing the flying fire
and the blue dragon.
A mosquito in my ear,
trapping itself in amber.
A contained sneeze.
She is not even hungry
but she marries herself
to that blackened toast
and bites the bacon,
snapping off splinters
between her teeth.
She wears that speckled flower
gown like a gold leafed saint,
milking love into mouths of all
those prying eyes in museums.
“Please,” I hear her,
“pass the butter.”
She spreads it on thick,
taking away my plate.
All I need now is the coffee
drip and the sun hot
enough to burn and warn
of what’s to come for Earth.
She sets down my plate
and sits down, magnificent.
She takes my hand in hers,
smiling glorious.
Mornings like these
are rarer than she.
I'll take them both.

narrative poem written on 07-01-2011 by: on mattkane.com
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