Red, tomato drool,

Dribbles down your chin,

Into the bowl beneath.

Your mouth, just a ladle,

For words unarranged.

Use your hands,

Spell what you mean!

Silverware clanking as I,

Slam my fists onto the table.

I want to pry my fingers,

Into your swollen cheeks,

To unclench your jaw- to spill all within.

You glare from under defiant, darkened brows,

While your soup turns cold and settles,

I stir ceaselessly for you- day in, day out-

Nights of bread crumbs and noodles,

Beneath a single yellow light-

The sink clangs

As I put away your spoons-

Ringing-- “I’m far too sick

Of alphabet soup.”