True love is a Sandwich

True love is a sandwich
The sacrifice of time
Yearning for one more moment:
Sleep, warm catharsis

I'm pulled by love to the kitchen.
Maybe chips, sweets, crackers -
Caloric fillers to top them up?

True love slices the tomato -
Ripe, juicy - just enough squish to layer
Textures of delight in crevices -
Slices mixed-grain sustenance
Freshly dense, yeasty
With extra wheat-germ
And just a touch of molasses.

The Grand Sandwich
Dotted, smeared, draped in
White and yellow glue
Unites distinguished parts
Into a cohesive whole:
The love is forming.

"It's always good with fresh dill
Sprinkled on top."
A ceremonious christening
Must sanctify

The gardener in me
Cultivates and collects seeds
Which, not unlike me,
Require burial and yielding,
If only by force of wetness
And darkening
Must die to their old, tiny, lifeless and
Dry life,
To begin a new one.

A breaking, hidden in deep earth,
Mystically imparts life

Their leaf will adorn my love
And I?
I'll give my kids
A sandwich.

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