On sushi, sorrow, being late to the party. (#1/2)

NaPoWriMo Early Bird #1/2- wishes in the style of Natalie Eilbert

are joylessly eating sushi alone in the middle of your kitchen
having come to the conclusion during a riff twinkling from ‘The Royal Scam’
that it cannot be reconciled,
together, and apart.

are slowly arriving at the realization that a bowl has broken,
it is disturbing to see the two halves still so neatly cradled together,
and it goes back under the sink,
it is too late when you hear the crack,
You have no glue.

imagine a Haitian divorce in Chilpacingo in the middle of a bite of rotten avocado,
its bitter taste rolls over your tongue, a sour remainder lodged
in the back of your molars,
numbered 31 and 32.

know there is no remedy for this,
no salt to mitigate blandness, no milk to make it moist,
there is not enough water in the world to render this palatable,
it is too late for a roux or a poultice,
it is boiling over, so you watch it cook from the chair at the end of the table.


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