She showed herself to him in pieces.
His favorite was in pie slices.
She was a big tablet to take
lots of history, lots of hours
spent fishing for shark.

I warn you, she could be heard saying,
Why are you with me, such a prickly pear?

He could be heard saying, I knew you’d be a challenge, I knew you’d be juicy, worth getting dirty for.

How do you know? She could be
seen leaning forward, imploring.

I’m waiter, he could be heard saying. I’ll take a slice of French chocolate if you’ll give me a slice of strawberry rhubarb.

She: I’m not all strawberry rhubarb. I’m tart, I’m lemon meringue. I’m peanut-butter. I’m flavors you’ve not even heard of.

He: Stop, you’re making me hungry.

She: But how do you know? I speak Spanish in China. I play violin in a brass band.

He could be heard saying, Enough with the melancholic metaphors.

She: silenced.

He: I have taken a picture of you and in it you are a whole person. If you need me to,
I will hold this picture up for you to see all the time.

She: But –

He could be heard, he could be seen
he could be felt taking her in
reminding and reminding her
putting each piece of her in his
pockets for safekeeping.

02/20/2007

Posted on 02/21/2007
Copyright © 2026 Lisa Marie Brodsky