The Table

A poem for my beloved.


You built it again

like so many things

each time better

(that's how you hope)

The one before was lighter

but warped from keeping water

that it needed to let go

Your frame was good,

we kept it in the move

then twisted together

assembling a skeleton

set alone in a dining room

With nowhere to eat

for so long

you found different pieces

laid them down

pierced and bound across

in patience they dried out

Those seated at the table

do not know

it's hollowed underneath

from heavier things

A testament of youth

and emptied hearts

still saying:




Ps 23:5