Tabled

It's where the fist is pounding

silently, invisibly

against the place setting

of plates, gone missing

jumping into space, juggling

empty like a stomach grumbling

There are four seats, uncushioned

and each is mentally taken, rigid

yet for all twenty something feet

only two can still walk away

from the puddle spreading

and the shade of home

and work never charted,

that draft felt con-

versation turned

away with cutlery

and hidden, under

like a rooftop, clothed

for prayers, muttered

before the Supper, which

we were all called to offer

09.17.2023

Tables challenge @Igbaum