We met by chance
in an ice-cream parlour.
He said he was addicted to ice-cream and
liked to end every meal with it.
Turned out he was addicted to a lot of things,
like alcohol, other women
and slapping me about.
I wasn’t supposed to complain,
so I didn’t.
I just told him I was leaving
and that I’d stocked the freezer
so he wouldn’t starve.
I don’t know how long it will take
to get to the ice-cream with the poison in it,
but after all
“Revenge is a dish best served cold,” isn’t it?
Copyright © Dora Wright 2015