Small Kitchen

Dancing whispered fear, she carefully choreographed

his evening meal, heart fluttering like a wounded sparrow


as the beat of his feet ground his presence to her consciousness.

Contrary to Pavlov’s dog, the lazy metronome of his breathing, in


then out, spawned a psychic desert. Her well-worn footwork

and gestures remained instinctive as he sang once again


his favourite song. She followed his lead, the subtle signs giving

encouragement of her subservience which she plated


and served to him with a side order of prayer. His appetite increased

as he feasted and though she fed him the entirety of her independence


he craved more. With mismatched souls at counterpoint

his swaggering presentation cowed her naked melody,


stilled her perfect timing. This small kitchen setting, was

stage made for a ubiquitous, repeat performance of


his potent unrestraint.

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