Page 213


Sunday dinners
Mr. Boran’s eyes never left me
He did not
Enhance my beauty.
He was on his knees.
Damp kisses
Growing passion.
His lips moved up.
I rose quickly.
Glazed with desire I wanted
Him at my command.
Remnants of his love. Kisses.
I felt my womanhood.
Horrid; the future
Of my own unhappiness.
Mr. B
Distanced himself from me
I caught him
And his eyes… Angry,
That he could not make it for dinner.