Mastication

The candle is guttering down in the wax.

The music has faded. The talk has run dry.

I’m trying to breathe and I’m trying to relax,

but I’m watching the clock as the minutes go by.

Your jaw makes a wet, snapping sound on the fruit.

I can see the small muscle that works by your ear.

It’s a primitive noise, something heavy and brute,

that makes me want to vanish and leave you right here.