True story

I had a dream
you lined a container with strips of your grief
And every so often lifted a piece
or five
to your mouth and you chewed
The way you'd chew fatty bits of steak or the stringy aftermath of celery
Gnawing until your jaw tires
wondering whether you’d choke if you swallowed

In the dream you kissed me
and tongue-twisted a lump into my mouth
and as I gnawed you walked away