Terrified

You're terrified now, right? I know I am:
The people coming round with cigarettes,
Writing bad poetry, and taking bets
About which fruit is really in that jam,
And whether "cured" describes this ugly ham
You served the captain and the majorettes
In final payment of your social debts.
The captain glared when he said, "Thank you, ma'am."

Confess that you don't love me any more,
And I'll forgive that chicken neck you bought
To make bad soup, and those postmen you shot,
And whisky dumplings, and the way you snore.
I'm hoping something; I forgot what for,
And now I'm terrified. Of you? Why not?