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WITH THE TABLE READY in one swallow, death. With the table ready, the places set: / we were not expecting you, but your arrival did not catch me unprepared: / There's always room for one more. / We will break our bread together / and share the salt of time upon our heads. // Because I have my courage up, and no one will notice / any change in my face. / The children will continue laughing / over the embroidered white tablecloth, / though I feel your eyes on me as I serve. / Swallowing grows difficult. My throat freezes. / Without protest, I will follow wherever you lead. |
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