Mike Bell/ September 12, 2021/ 0 comments

Discretion was an unknown
way – indiscreet in a slinked
perusal of a certitude – by it

we fooled ourselves into it –
[she lay too often with fools
& took their tokens of love] –

A sour face returned to me –
one tipped up – as if spilt – a
scraped dish of remains – as

if quickly blade-skinned [by
such thin-lipped smirks – &
those brief sayings of grace] –

& now I will choose a guest –
for dinner & bed – with more
to give than acrid self-loving

put first [for homes where a
memory lingers] – we’ll both
dine well – a menu of dignity

served to only those sat at a
table laid for two – say it – by
prayers we now feed on love

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