by having me pop in
when the pepper-mill was full,
and one more crinkly black round
wouldn’t have the top fitting sound. He tried

by sitting on the bottom,
when all the other pieces would
fall on top of him, and he’d be that much
closer to the grinder. He tried

by flaking off, snowing dark
and hot, emptying out and mixing
with my salt. But all I saw were bits and
pieces I abhorred.