Eating Poetry

Rock, Paper, Ink

I wrote on the ceiling
scribbled on the sink
scratched the furniture
our whole damn house drenched in ink

yet he did not like my verses much
he fancied only greatness
Keats and Blake and such
thus I had to rephrase grace
and show it to him some other way

so I marked the windows
engraved the cat’s bowl
penned grace across his face
carved poetry into his damn soul