Beans & Bones

I don’t eat meat, but you made me.
I lay the bones beside my plate.
One, two, three, four, five.
I had sucked the marrow, and licked the sauce.
Yes, I suppose you could call it a smile.

It should have rained, but it didn’t.
Dust caressed your ankles like a cat.
I could not see my reflection in your shoes,
which stamped the shovel into the earth.
Amidst the beans you buried five bones.