leftovers

	Sia   Breathe Me   Colour the Small One

i brought out the large corelle bowl-
the one we only use when we have visitors.
(and in this order) i dumped in
this morning’s sausages,
last night’s lasagna,
tuesday’s fish,
last saturday’s fried bananas
a couple slices of cheese,
oregano, basil, marjoram,
and a dash of salt to taste.

i popped it in the microwave,
watched it rotate,
listened to the sound of oil popping,
of cheese melting,
and a need about to be filled.

i wish you had been there
to see me eat it all.
viciously, selfishly,
like it’s going out of style.
i burned my tongue.

and i wish you had been there,
to watch it go down the toilet
in strange circular motions.
(they say it turns differently over there.)*

but you weren’t. so it doesn’t fucking count.