“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label holiday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holiday. Show all posts
Saturday, January 5, 2019
Feast of air
He sets the table
for the holiday
he has planned
carefully,
gently laying
the knives-
blades facing inward
of course, there was nothing real
about this place setting
in this metaphor
Helping with a tool, utensil, in-kind-ness
He says,
Busy, I have so much work to do
I do not reply
I do not show I notice
anticipation,
I know this
is a holiday
and anyway, he knows this too,
(the closures)
he presses (on) the edge of
bleached napkins
naming each of his clients
He must go
to
to-day
too many
there lie(s)
the empty plates
while the water glasses break
a sweat
profusely
dropping rings
at the appointed places
becoming tepid
and easier to digest.
Painting by Hendrick Andriessen, Vanitas c. 1630-1640 in [Public domain] via Wikimedia Commons.
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