My yacht swayed with the waves’ massage.
The stars were glistening above.
The tablecloth a checked collage.
“Dinner is served. Let’s eat, my love.”

You turned calmly. I was nervous.
Your reply was a tender kiss.
“Does that mean you like the service?”
“Dear, you didn’t have to do this,”

You protested. “Let me spoil you.
After all, it’s Saint Valentine’s.
By this pledge you’ll know my love’s true.”
I held a card that read, “Be Mine.”

On tiptoes you gave me a taste
Of the chocolates that you received.
You wouldn’t let the moment waste
Without smooching me. You believed.

A dozen roses in a vase
And petals on the bed below
Had been carefully put in place
To perfect this romantic show.

I held your chair as you sat down,
Then poured you a glass of champagne.
You spilled a little on your gown
And looked as if you were in pain.

“Love, don’t worry about your dress,
It won’t matter after dinner.”
You wink as you scrub at your mess.
“I’m shocked, dear. You’re such a sinner.”

“Come, love, let’s eat before the food
Becomes seasick or grows too cold.”
“I know the rush; you’re in the mood
To devour me. Am I too bold?”

“Perhaps, just a little bit, love.
Besides there’s plenty more to do
Tonight before, my little dove,
We’ll say that the romance is through.”

You smile and uncover your meal,
Fresh bread and salad to one side
And a healthy amount of veal
Parmesan. A small surge of pride

Comes as you compliment the cook,
Although the food you have not tried.
As you take the first bite, I look,
And we both seem quite satisfied.

You have removed your stilettos,
For beneath the tablecloth’s veil
I recognize your creeping toes,
Which are happy that all is well.

The wind makes the candles flicker,
Despite their clear, protective glass.
I’m sure your heart’s beating quicker,
But my soul is a dead morass.

I can’t help but look at you eat,
Unaware of the things that grew
In and on and around that meat.
Still, I remained composed as you

Ate the ergot infected rye
That was used to bake your bread,
And I wondered how soon you’d die,
And love could take your place instead?

My staring almost gave away
What I had planned so carefully.
“Why do you look at me that way?
It makes me nervous,” you tell me.

“I’m smitten by the way you look.
I hope you like the meal, my dear,
Though we both know that I’m no cook.
I’ve been planning for it all year.”

You seem content with this reply
Thinking it’s just egotism.
What hallucinations would vie
With truth due to ergotism?

Soon food poisoning would occur,
And you would ask for Dramamine,
Thinking you were seasick. A blur
Would come over you as morphine

And scopolamine—Twilight Sleep—
Would numb you to your demise.
Soon, with the fishes you would sleep,
And the light would fade from your eyes.

I chewed, caught in the fantasy
Of heaving you over the rail.
You’d die like Ophelia, dumbly,
Since your limbs’d no longer avail.

I wondered if you’d vomit and
Choke on it in your drowsy state.
You reached over to grab my hand;
Salmonella seduced your plate.

I smile and raise my glass to cheer,
Thinking I must look debonair.
“Let’s toast to wondrous love all year.
To you, my love, my light, my prayer.”

You clinked my glass and drank it up;
I could have used belladonna.
But deadly nightshade in your cup’s
Not meet for a prima donna.

No, you will drown as I have done,
Since you’ve treated me unjustly.
You made me do what you thought fun;
I’ll take no more of it. You’ll see!

What a splendid splash you will make:
Lead flesh wearing a diamond ring.
I might cry a tear for your sake,
Although it wouldn’t mean a thing.

I’ll report you sadly missing.
Then, with the sharks they’ll go fishing,
While another I am kissing
And doing whate’er I’m wishing.

The only thing that saddens me:
I’d have to wait till “grieving’s” through.
Since you pretended to love me,
I’ll feign I actually loved you.

I wouldn’t want someone to think
I was less than devastated
(Though secretly I’m tickled pink)
When by death we’re separated.

You were not a trophy, just strife.
Veal with germs rife obeys your knife.
“This the best day of my life.
Happy Valentine’s Day, dear wife!”