Sausage food

-Zubayr Charles

---

I realise now that it was 

a mistake; I should have never 

left my heart for you on the cutting 

board in your kitchen. 

As you returned from the bhai,

you left the top of the dutch-door 

open, inviting the cold air 

to dance around the flames

of your gas stove. 

You prepared our last meal, 

adding sugar to your braising onions. 

my heart was tearful, 

swelling in the process, 

imbibing your aroma. 

You butchered the sausage, 

ignoring the tears of torn 

heart, and somehow, my heart

got caught up in the mix. 

The dicing was brutal. 

i became fragile, 

diminished 

into 

cubes 

of 

nothingness. 

Only, by habit, to be tossed into your rusted pot 

and turned into 

another one of your 

tasteless smoortjies.