once her daughter had called her beautiful so she wore it like silk

with a smile of clarified butter that smokes in the pan

the second before the heady pits of cumin, mustard

and cardamom hit the tarnished copper,

release their muddy fragrances in to the kitchen that now

is made up of the man who took her ocean away

every surface a split lip smile, windows flecked with spittle

drawers full of teeth like barbs, curtains of skin

and oh god he will not stop eating though he must be full by now