Poetry / Soul Food

Before her I had lovers not too many

but more than a few.  She came to dinner,

entered my house, held my hand and

saw my place.  She touched a photo

and skimmed through a book,

then sat down to say grace.

She lifted her head, looked at me,

smiled and showed her good mood

and with one sweep of her hand

she swept my butter, pepper, salt and

sugar condiments off the table and all

but threw away my fine, white, table cloth.

Before her I had lovers not too many

but more than two.  She entered my house,

held my hand and saw my place.  She touched

a photo and skimmed through a book,

and then sat down to say grace.

She lifted her head, looked at me,

smiled and showed her good teeth and

with one brush of her hand she swept

without a trace all that I had made,

cooked and prepared.

Before her I had lovers not too many

but more than a few.  She came to dinner

but brought her own food.

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