My order was wrong,
then wrong again.
The waiters were men,
You were angry with me,
then you weren't you, or at least,
didn't seem to be.
An alchemist came and turned the soup to stone,
the stone to a poem,
together to alone,
despite all assurances printed on the menu card.
Lunch for 2.
Dinner for 4.
In your hand an apple,
then nothing; then a core.
I said, "My love...my love...my love...my love...."
as I dug with my fingers all the way through the world,
to find a hard queen, a woman dissolved
in your eye looking back saying, "Now what, girl?"
For "Play It Again, Toads" at The Imaginary Garden. I was inspired by the image at top, which is by my dear friend Daryl Edelstein, and also by the image below, which was taken by Karin Gustafson.