Sunday, February 8, 2015

Of course


Of course
I love you
She said
As her mouth
Closed round a
Walker’s shortbread

Was it to me?
She spoke
As she read of
Missionaries
While filling
Her mouth

Of course
I love you
I’m your mother
Taking another bite
I shouldn’t really
You know

Was she referring to me?
Or to the other
Walker’s shortbread
Her hand scrabbled
Towards, as a crab
Rushing to catch the tide

I should be grateful for
Love’s definition
Biology’s compulsion
Yet how could I compete
With missionaries and
Walker’s shortbread, so sweet

Of course, I accepted
Her lie, crumbs of love
Are better than none
And as for shortbread
I don’t eat it
Now

And as for love?
Well she never did
I was her inconvenience
The shameful reminder
Of her husbands
Lust

So forgive me
If I don’t believe
Of course I know
You know you love me
It’s sweet
Like mother’s shortbread



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