she scraped the marrow from her ribs,
slipped it into his coffee,
trying
to sweeten the way he held her hand.

he did not sip; he slurped
loudly,
and again
over last week's paper

(he never could be bothered
with details)

and when the mug emptied
she rushed forward,
raised her palms

she hoped
yes
hoped --

but all he said was,
"more."