Stew.

Can you love someone with a black soul?

When the heart has no control?

Pulling strings over a violin, music fills

The room. Feelings of despair and feelings

Of rust. The feeling of the sea beneath

My rug burned knees. Between bees and

Roses secrets lay still. It’s the morning

Before my funeral, can you feel my warm

Skin linger into the room while the women

Weep and the men mourn. Who cares

For the dinner rolls when there is

French Bread.