All the years
of mornings
he stirs his coffee
creamer no sugar
as though essential ingredients
withdraw into porcelain
requiring they be scraped free
from curved interior walls
spoon etching high-pitched
inexplicably dry shrieks
of demand
into their marriage

she wants to tell someone

but

things happen

this morning she watched
a shrike
impale upon acacia thorn
a field mouse
the bird paused to cock its head
make self-congratulatory
eye contact
before ripping flesh
from life

and so

she pours
creamer into her coffee
sips the silent bloom
of storm

.