blueberry jam

as she

brushes her hair,

i stand at the stove and crack

two

eggs into the pan.

i look at her in the hallway,

in front of the mirror.

she looks

at me

and says, what?

nothing,

i reply.

nothing.

i pull the toast from

the toaster,

set it on a plate,

then the eggs.

i sit at the table.

watching her leave

as the door

closes

behind her.

the blueberry jam is cold as

i spread it

across the square land

of bread.