Rogan Kelly
STOLE SALT FROM THE GRAVY YOU BORROWED
We were bright and new like an Early Girl tomato. You put me to
work at once and I liked it; the honey-do, the honey bee. We
bought fuses together; didn’t fit the fixture. The wild length of you
held the rickety ladder. I climbed your top step. Fell hard like all
that. At the hardware store, with the dickhead behind the counter,
you proved the better boy. Sweet but impatient, always in a hurry
for the next best thing. And yet, when you cook, and damn do you
cook, all slow simmer and salt, you only ask for me to be at your
table, at the steady-ready, to have it hot and heavy and on your
time. I feel seen in your hands.