Somewhere in the Delta

In my kitchen in Florida

the lid clinks shut

on the little china dish

where I keep the Splenda

I shake two packets

by holding one end

then tear and pour

into my wife’s coffee

I drink mine black.

But in some lady’s kitchen

in the delta the china

still holds real sugar

and the ghost of

a very old lady stirs

a spoon full of sugar

into a cup that isn’t there.