She wants

steak and oranges -
blood oranges.

And the steak should
be very rare.

She craves meat and all
things deep red in color.

She just wants
to get
to the heart of the matter.

Knife and fork lie untouched
as scraps dangle from her
ruddy fingers.

She doesn't use her fingernails
as she doesn't have any
that haven't been gnawed on -
antipasto to her
grinding need.

Is she a man eater?
Your fear is salt;
meat loves salt
and salted meat is
her favorite tasty treat.

Bon Appetite!




poem in five cinques

i can't
forget the way
our voices like hands reached
out and clasped each other tight in
prayer

fingers
of thought tight laced
in communing amen
with hallelujah implied in
their grip

but now
it seems that your
right hand is unaware
of what this left hand is doing
unclasped

left to
dangle alone
and silenced from even
signing to missing digits its
intent

what's left
but meaningless
thumbs up, thumbs down, ok
circle, finger pointing, horned sign;
the bird.



- Annette Marie Hyder 2001