Glasses shiver and cutlery quivers
This kitchen fractures into tiny slivers
Under the power of her fury.

Knives dance in her palm
As she decides which direction
They should hurl
And curl their sweet blades.

She wasn't put here to hate
But even her steadfast loyalty bends
And breaks under the pressure
Of this house.

They'll destroy each other and break all links
Her pile of bones atop the kitchen sink.