in silent space
once site of sparring
multi-generational warring
vying trying to love to control to shake sense into make
sense out of the Big Controversies:
how one should eat how one should think
what one should eat what one shouldn’t drink
table legs hollow chrome tubes formica top sun-splatter blur specks of dust float filter indistinct
for this last time being
the table the two of us what is left
we turn the table on its lid (house finally sold)
petrified artifacts rattle down
the legs grayish green
gold
peas wax beans asparagus forty years old
N.B. This poem is dedicated to those children who had to finish their suppers before they could leave the table. Under the table, in my house, there were two convenient receptacles for disposing of unwanted food – the dog, and the top openings of hollow chrome tubes that made up each table leg.
Jean Cassidy 2010
