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mouth pink and swollen, softly she says, 'no more.'
the whisper slithers out of her mouth and curdles.
putting up her hands (pale and shaking), white flags of supplication.
he turns away from her, his movements slow and deliberate.
she thinks of the first time she say him cry, both hands held over his face.
his mother dead in New Jersey, the cold seeping into the room.

too late to swallow her whisper (it tastes of bitter uncertainty), silence in the room.
her hands feel clammy, they want to twist together. what more
does she want his back asks her. he's given her love. the very deliberate
way he held her elbow at church flashes through her mind, his face
solemn. the mouth turned own at the corners. there is never any supplication
from him. only the stale taste of his kisses. love has gone over the way milk curdles.

her toes are numb, she wants to reach down and warm them. her heart curdles
in her chest. the silence spins out, reminding her of her father's face
when he, in all dignity, tried to end his life on a cold spring day. no more
entreaties to his cold children and even colder wife, simply gave up supplication
and decided to arrange the end. this is not the first time the room
has been filled with a chill that rankles. his silence is deliberate.

last year they were happy. sloppy kisses and joined hands. they would deliberate
over poetry and novels read by moonlight. the small room
they shared filled with laughter. then she visited her parents, the face
of her mother lined with bitterness. afterwards remembering more
every day of the fear and anger that she stewed in years ago. cream curdles,
as do memories when they sit in the mind untended to. memories of domestic supplication.

he would never understand. happy family filled with requests rather than supplication.
happy christmases with a silver trimmed tree and presents. his face
glowing with happiness. not the silent frowns of her parents, their deliberate
avoidance of one another. the happiness of both she and he curdles
underneath her doubts and his lack of understanding. more
and more she escapes the silence by sleeping in a separate room.

she said she would try. they would try again and they went into the room
they shared for more than two years and they kissed, his face
relaxing in the dim light. the kisses cold and deliberate.
planned out the way a war is planned. then her hands held up in supplication and
it was over. on opposite sides of the vast bed. the last of his regard curdles
and she can feel the cool air between them. no more.

she sees him across the room of the dance hall a few months later. the smile
on his face curdles and the way he averts his eyes is deliberate. she thinks of
domestic supplication long ago and how he and she are no more.