Table Top Tantrum

Broccoli makes my braces snap,
Carrot makes my heart collapse.
Loading until the dishwasher creates a symbolic

Mixings merge, of
cinnamon sticks and a hungry heart.
Washing water cries:
streaming stupidly. smashing
my eyes-
I didn’t even add the onions.

Earlier today I cooked my dinner,
with thyme and nurtered care.
Now the bowl
erodes into a bitterness
I didn’t even know was there.

Maybe the broccoli smelt weird,
or carrot out of date.
Nothing ever did taste right,
blinded by vapours of a
painful steamy light.

Now my throat is sore from swearing,
grubby hands lifted in surrender,
the dishes dingy and dirty,
strewn- splintering shards
of porcelin glass.



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