Marshall Gass

The Cook

I am a great cook, you said, casually
switching between the phone and knife
cutting conversations into small slivers
dicing lettuce, add patties, mustard
the phone smearing your make-up.
balancing between your neck and necklace
and long spiral ear-rings.

I am a great cook, you continued,
head tilted at a rakish angle
knife still dancing in mid-air.

(It's a technique you mastered
over the years)
Cutting, calling and stalling.
I watched those big brown eyes
join the talkative salad and burger
now taking shape on the table

I shrivelled in fear
when you laughed and said:
I am a great cook and killer
of lettuce, stray ladies and flirty men-
Ha! Ha!

Do you want a beer to go with your burger?
did you joke?

Author Notes

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved,22 days ago

Submitted: Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Edited: Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Topic of this poem: metaphor

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