.
It should never have ended that way:
both of us grasping for our clothes
(we'd grasped too long for something to say),
easing cold fingers and toes
through the tunnels
of cloth, closing the rows
of buttons, bending to kneel
and retrieve our socks
from the floor where they fell.
Our mouths refused to talk
as you made your escape,
scurrying along the walk.
I should have kissed the nape
of your sleek neck
and torn a gaping
gash after one deceitful peck.
I should have dumped
your useless shell onto its back,
ripped the red lump
of muscle from your body
then carefully pumped
your blood to sip later with tea.
I should have simmered it with chives
and a handful of peas,
your legs twitching as if still alive.
A. Popp
.