It is a ladle odd
to spoon with
a knife that
couldn’t
carve
with
any
care
on the
plate you
two do share.
If it is spare-rib
or steak or caribou,
you prong a promise,
as blades carry through,
to guide their slicing slide,
to always b brave & stay true.
But what do they do? They cut

you too.

The other couples
are happy, oh god,
that filled up cup will get
its milk chocolate strawed.

That cabbage and carrot
got thrashed savage
It was hell
but they wear it well
living lavish and careless
like a crisscrossed boss
tossed in a bowl of sweet coleslaw sauce.