As the schedule decreed, I had
leftover casserole for lunch.
I de-tubbed it sloppily and warmed it,
and the day before.
But even in the first greyish forkful,
the paprika had deepened,
the mushrooms had infused,
the meat had relaxed and softened.
My mouth thought it was all new.
When you came home, I kissed you,
noticing that you were more peppery
than when you left.
Later, over goulash, you pulled a new face
and I laughed.
Nina Parmenter has appeared in journals including Ink, Sweat & Tears, Snakeskin, Light, Better Than Starbucks and The Lyric. She was highly commended in the 2021 Geoff Stevens Memorial Prize, and is a Forward Prize nominee. She lives in Wiltshire. Twitter: @ninaparmenter Facebook: @parmenterpoetry Website: ninaparmenter.com