I Made You Dinner
Can you still taste full-bodied
trust on your tongue
when you’re lying there seared
in your own guts?
Because I made you dinner
and fed you lies,
I set the table,
but stabbed you with your knife.
And now you thaw out
on the floor in silence.
What’s a casual date
without some violence?
Blood stains like red wine
on my evening dress–
I clear the plates,
scrub my hands,
pick up the mess.
