This morning I scraped the hummus into the trash.
For a week it lurked, with its pale creamy peaks
uneaten but smelling of desert and delight
I had made it for you – swirled the olive oil
and tahini, the hint of chipotle pepper
that makes it the world’s best hummus, you said once
but you opted for peanut butter sandwiches
instead, or anything from the cabinet
and I didn’t have the heart to eat what I put
my heart into making with the lemon juice.
It stuck to the spoon as I heaped it into
the cat litter and set the silver bowl to soak.