She severs links. Her knife pierces
tough translucent skinned kielbasa.
Shrugs off cuts that dull blades
and the reason for stainless, for steel.
She reaches into the sink.
Soft hips blend into closed cabinets.
Our edges whisper while I watch,
hearing is hard.
She tidies-up, tries not to leave me
with gunk in my grout
shows me the difference
between clean and cared-for.
We never foretold this time-
a side for scouring
a side for rinsing
a thin ridge between.
sudsy fingers feel burned
bits on cast iron crust.
Please, let the season stay.
The double-paned window
Krista Genevieve Farris writes about whatever tickles her not so fancy in whatever form fits. Her work has been included in a wide variety of journals and magazines. Links to her published poetry, essays and stories can be found at her writer's website. https://kristagenevievefarris.wordpress.com/