the smell of breakfast cooking
left her uneasy
hungry but uneasy
he rarely cooked
most times expecting her to
but he didn’t like the way
she made eggs
when he was drunk
remnants of last night
a beer and wild turkey night
were scattered over the living room
everything empty
his friends had pawed at her
while he laughed
but none of them got her
this time
his eggs were getting cold
they had melted little pits
onto the styrofoam plate
last time this happened
he blamed her for buying
the crappy plates
and he beat her again
dropping her books
she scooped up his plate
if she was quick
she could slide the half cooked
half burned mess
onto a new plate
she was quick enough
but realized the bacon and sausage
he had walked away from
were burning to a crisp
she’d have to throw it out
and start it over
god help her
if he’d used the last of it
Empty Garden 