repast (revised)

they fed each other spoonfuls of mangoes
the morning after
carving crescents of yelloworange
with yawning hands

pushing the plate aside
licking the spoon's belly

she is still hungry for the hush in his eyes
that blankets the small bombs targeting her sun

she hordes her words and the silence swells
encroaching on a tabletop neatly set for two
stealing the soft cotton in her voice
that spun him roundround when they first met
(she hasn't spoken in days)

he watched the brown melt out of her eyes
and darken her skin

the fruit perspires between them
her spoon idle
despite wanting to gorge on the promise
of tomorrow

but that would make her fat

so she sits
envying the roomy hips
of the one remaining mango