I woke up gnawing
On a half-gnashed,
Fleeting thought
Possibly re-heated
From doubt-filled
Feasts of dream
And the muscle-clack
Of nerves and swarming
Teeth grind
Snaps my heart awake
To face the platter
Set before me
Heart to sink
At beetle things, and
Pre-chewed half moons
Slewed up from slurry,
The knowledge
Of my own failings.
I am no feast for
The likes of
Kings and Queens
I am a lukewarm pool
Of half-hearted
Fool’s gruel
Some mornings,
I wake with slake and
Pangs of hunger
And on others
I myself am
Half-consumed
Yet she dines on my love,
And with my table set
Knowingly lackluster
Her eyes are the
Tradewinds of bluster
And sweetness
Her beauty paints
The sordid and the chaste
In grace and in steel-blue
And she offers her
Fruit up
To me
So we circle
And we feast-
Our hearts sustained
And we as one
Remind the other
That yes, dear,
Yes
You will always
Be good enough