Short Poem Derived From a Haiku Attempt

[ajcohen613]

Cold Stew

Her reading light is still on
when he returns home at night
to cold stew longing at the dining table.
Like a worried dog, he sits.
Alone, he eats his stew
neglecting to warm it up.
His graceless slurping and shuffling loafers
are heard in their bedroom.
What he doesn’t tell her,
what she prefers to keep from herself
is scribbled on a bar receipt in his back pocket,
the smell on his neck - not his own.




*Here's the haiku I wrote that became this short poem.

"Her light is still on
when he returns home at night
to cold stew longing."

*Here's my 2nd go after some suggestions were made. Let me know your thoughts! Still playing with the last line.

Cold Stew

Her reading light is still on
when he returns home at night
to cold stew waiting at the dining table.
Like a worried beagle,
he sits and eats his neglected dinner.
His graceless slurping and shuffling loafers
are heard in their bedroom.
What he doesn’t tell her -
what she might prefer to keep from herself
is scribbled on a bar receipt in his back pocket,
marked by the foreign scent on his neck.