- No Food at Eleven!
feel my way, half asleep, to the kitchen.
Exquisite ceramic slices through your morning fruit
a little too easily for my current state of lucidity.
Though my stomach is queasy at this hour and I
cannot entertain talk of, let alone sight of food;
I find the aroma of your sweet, crisp, tart,
Granny Smith apples unusually appealing.
With briefcase in hand you emerge, babbling on
about your days food intake and preparation,
I offer your breakfast politely and pretend not to hear.
Intently you query if I will be joining you for lunch…
I will but…, and then with all the sternness I can muster…
I cannot possibly eat as early as eleven!
With intense incredulity your amber speckled spruce gaze
cuts right through my determined demeanor;
and like the adorable kitten that you just can’t say no to…
you greet me with unabashed enthusiasm
when I show up, food in hand… precisely at eleven.
© 2012, Dani Heart. All rights reserved.