A tidal wave emerged
On a once calm,
Grecian shore.

A trust,
Provided like currency,
Remains unpaid.

And then paid in fruit,
That gets eaten and forgotten,
Or rots.

Until I find you
Hugging knives again,
And I can’t paint you a picture.

So I lie here, gathering oil
Bare handed from the floor
Into this giant bucket.

How about a deal instead?
I’ll give you all the apples in the world
For all the oranges I don’t need.

Then, a chiselled reply
Is like velvet on the tongue
And held like wine.

Remembering to savour the slow
Swallow; until the realisation
It’s my own flesh I’ve devoured.


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