Half a tea spoon.
Two sugars,
One extra to measure.
New taste,
South American roast.
Aroma fills the room
I hope it tastes better.
Three crumpets.
a slice of toast.
Oh,
The joy of choice

Bluugh!
this coffee *****
what a waste

.
and your mug shot's shining through
it's a vision true   (but the subject's taboo)
              all             ugly               here
morning sunshine    breakfast table    autumn cool
you're poised to speak   a fly lands on your lolling spoon    
then   i stand up merry                                      
i make my vital move      the table backs away  distressed
your eyes raise
   i flop open my faminous mouth   and let the fumes draw in
Surprise !
(no time for you to hold surplus breath -                             
- form an expression - make any objection)
              mechanism disjoints    like the raw riches
i whip the plumb weight of my head   and strike
mouth-chomp-grip   over your scalp
and i am working you in
with swift jaw shifts and hingery

i **** on you with a smile and gullet                                      
  (past photos of you   shuffle glaucous before my inner eye)
yap sock muscle   i operate   gumming on your head
(ours was the world ; we got so lazy)
budging in your hair   dampened by my saliva
(our timid first meeting at a bar)
and airway and my teeth softly folding back
(us in bed-us in bed-us-in-bed)
                                   and whole hog jaw agog
(the tourist we made as a couple)
i dilate and distend  crouch low to take your weight
(the rise and falter of your sleeping chest)
upend  your hands panic typing in the air        
(the eyes of your investment in me)
your feet flinging the heft back and forth   
    your shoulders break in and forward folding
my chest cracks and wells                            
(gifts we gave that touched heart and others that fell short)
a complete engulfing meal of you                
(your childhood antidotes and teenage feelings we discussed)
down my soft disposal                                  
   (all my memories of us in a fizz                                      
                         and all the inaccuracies)

...and then i head off to hibernation    
      ferrying an idea that ' i have you now '
           that   perhaps you were my enemy            
                                              a­ll this time
and i am digesting the beast
                      (what a feast !)