“Years later we found a piece of steak wedged behind the cupboard” Do you remember the china plate With the heart pattern, the reddish steak And how it flew and hit the door And the watery red spread on the floor? You said, “that was a waste of steak,” And calmly scooped the shards of plate Up from the newly carpeted floor Reached for your coat and slammed the door. I remember the crack down the heart-patterned plate And in my head it broke in half and the steak Left a heart-shaped stain on our brand new floor And the photo frame trembled when you shut the door.   But nothing breaks cleanly in real life: plates Smash crooked and hearts are at stake And one person wipes the floor With the other then calmly, understatedly closes the door. Sorrel Wood If you have any comments on this poem, Sorrel Wood would like to hear from you.