The Dishes My Love

What was it, that chocolate crustscorched in the pot from yesternight,leaning, off-burner, with the danglingspoon, wooden and stained? Best give it a soak, my love,that tomorrow we may findits nature framed tight in stainless,framed tight in the soap bubblesthat have raced and clingto the round squat walls. Perhaps we may find, tomorrow,among the gray pepper-flecked... Continue Reading →

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