241/365: The Effing Scallops
"You nailed the effing scallops,"
you said to the chef, and I knew again,
I knew again that I loved you.
Your hands rose with fingertips pressed
like kisses above the fish,
and now I cannot even remember
the face of the man who cooked our food,
I do know your hands, though,
and the swell of your lips
pressed circular around good food.