how many
more times
do we sit

at the old dining
table clanking
silver knives

and forks
on favourite jasmine
or plain

white plates
cut french bread
carelessly scatter

flakes of crust
on the grey carpet
with the orange stain

how many
more times
do we help

to garlicky
slices of cold

a glass
of red

roast chicken

at room temperature
and masticate

how many
more times
do we strip

the sordid
carcass bare
mop up

olive oil
and vinegar
share the last

bitter inch
from the bottle
fill up

our fat
and starve

for want of love

Steve Duffy

If you've any comments on his poem, Steve Duffy would be pleased to hear from you.