Lip


What God joined together,
a curt hurt
separated. The promise 
to have and to hold
tossed, crumpled,
by the road.

Though far out in a huff,
the proven meatball recipe called for a call,
cell phone tether
eased me back to a warm kitchen
and you, apronned, stirring
that famous red sauce,
tomato pasting our marriage.

An accosting lip is
better bit, tears
blinking to realize my stubborn steps
nearly led the eye to eye
to a storm.