Tasty poison; I couldn’t resist your broad shoulders.
Caramel-colored, or should I say dulce de leche,
your monochromatic skin had no tan lines to stop
my tongue; I’d already crossed the border.
You savored my stew, simmered slowly,
tender and yielding to your bite.
Unfamiliar paprika, you learned to like it.
But I can’t cook all day,
and you were always hungry.
You raided my refrigerator for cold leftovers,
after I asked you not to.
I had to put a lock on the refrigerator door.
I had to tell you to take your large ladle
and go stir someone else’s pot.
Copyright 2009
Author's Bio: Anonymous is an amateur poet and cook and a healthcare professional in New York City. She savors natural ingredients and bittersweet flavor.
