★ ★ ★ ★



You serve up your infidelity with such delicacy,
always á la Florentine bedded by that edible
flowering plant that gave Popeye The Sailor Man
such fortitude, the same one that makes me
regurgitate your name with immense hatred.

Those dark green, crinkly, curly leaves offer me
no solace or explanation as I look for release in
the pastel blues and greens of my kitchen walls
and counter tops where darkness seems to edge
close seeking entrance.

I start to peel that starchy, tuberous crop the one
you always said would make me fat, the one I loved
to eat baked, smothered in bacon and cheese. Tonight
there will be no holding back, no counting calories
for your sake, no famine to overtake my heart.

Theresa C. Gaynord likes to write about matters of self-inflection and personal experiences. She likes to write about matters of an out-of-body, out-of-mind state, as well as subjects of an idyllic, pagan nature and the occult. Theresa writes horror, as well as concrete gritty and realistic dramas. Theresa is said to be a witch and a poet, (within the horror writing community) and she has been published in a number of magazines throughout the years.

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