Kitchen Romance

Softly
I breathe broken French
As we dance,
Unlovely,
Round each other
In the kitchen;

Cleaning
Scattered dishes
And worn knifes
And plates with the echoes
Of glorious feast;

And we move
So ungracefully,
Four left feet
Accidentally in
One another’s way
At every other step

But I persist:
‘Mon petit Chou’
(From school days)
And:
‘Je t’adore…
(a la folie)’

***

At length,
With the drudgery done,
She grabs my shirt
And backs to the counter,
Pulling me after

And herself
Whispers:
‘Shut up’
And brightens:
‘Kiss me, you cad’