“That’s rich,” she mutters, “That’s rich” –
brooding on grievance, like a fat hen.
“That’s rich”, and switches off the telly,
folds the paper, lets the curtain drop.
All that richness sours her,
curdles her stomach, carves deep lines.
It doesn’t nourish her.
It’s quadrille night, 44 words, one of which is the prompt word. Tonight Kim is our dVerse host, and our word is “rich”. Lovely.