Room Service

I brought you breakfast on a tray.

It lifted its head and its narrow, evil tongue flicked in and out.

It's leathery foot dangled off the silver edge,

And a lemon wedge fell.



"What is this?" you said.

"Shay, what the fuck is this?"

I said,

"It is love given and received.

It is something to do while waiting for Judgement to scorch its way through the atmosphere,

Like a needle into skin."

I sat on the edge of the bed,

Picked up your hand and kissed each finger,

Finding them redolent of me, moreso than my own bones.



I went on:

"It is foul,

It is poison.

It is me paying you back in kind."

But you were already gone,

And I was only talking to myself.

___________