The Cook - Poem by Marshall Gass
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-
Do you want a beer to go with your burger?
did you joke?
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved,22 days ago
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