Two Poems

by Connie Wanek

Leftovers

After you have read all you possibly can

there may be a few lines left.
Please don’t feel obligated!
They’re cold by now
as conclusions often are.
Hard, too, like beef fat that
whitens at the foot of a roast.
Some can make another meal of leftovers
and often read past midnight
drinking the last wine
directly out of the bottle.
“Happily ever after” is for those
who never seem to tire of sweets.
And you: you’re already going home,
leaving me with this mess,
wrinkled napkins, bones and crusts
and onions teased out of the salad.
If only I had a pig to fatten
on last words.


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