Before

Before we talk of your decline and fall.
I’d like to know why you hang
from your black open window,
and howl into the night sky.

Spitting bacon in a frying pan,
full of fat and sausages.
I’m reminded of Saturdays long ago.
A large table in the kitchen, the ritual of eating.

I’d like to know why it happened that way.
Was there purpose in the eating?
Did it make us whole.
Before we talk of your decline and fall.


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