There’s a Message in my Sandwiches


When we first got together
you wrapped my sandwiches in foil.

I’d gently run my thumb down the metal
With a soft pressure.
Imagining I was running it down the back of your neck.
Then I’d part the foil, peeling it away slowly
Like I would the dress from your shoulders.

Next I’d take a tiny scrap of foil
Reverently place it on my tongue
Running it around my mouth relishing
the electric shock,
Reminding me of when my lips used to touch
The nape of your neck.

Now you wrap my sandwiches in cellophane.

A clammy body bag, sweaty to the touch.
I would try not to flinch away from it
Like when I accidently brush against your skin.

A cheap covering that can’t disguise what’s within.
Easily see through like the lies and promises I make.
Grasped at it tears easily, falling apart as we are doing now.