Shi by Zoe Konstantinou

Sep 9, 2019
You read my poems and tore the pages.
a Chinese poem played on the speakers. 
Black dirty pots on the hob.

      No defense. 
He read the poems. It’s fine. 
Now he prepares filter coffee in a dirty machine.
His friend pointed it out.
It’s ok, I needed coffee. He wanted me gone soon.

My eyes clung to him. Sentimental stalking. 
I lit a cigarette then another. He didn’t like that. 
Faster. (Leave!)
There was a knife on the stove. For meat. 

He took it up, 
feigned stabbing me. Smiling
more than once.
 Time to leave.

P.S: Inscrutable desires
        Forgive me.

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