Another Holy Day – the table cannot hold
Creation as it is: the eight-month-old
enraptured with his reach; the toddler who paints
with gravy; cake pans grinning through the faint
crow’s feet that age has cut, now brimming with the cryst-
al skins of chicken-fried-steak; the eldest
great-grandson’s loosened memory (this plate, this place,
the man who consummated every grace,
“this food unto our bodies and our bodies to
thy use”); remembrance she leads us through –
Set the table as a bone is set. Separate
the ends to make a space. Be delicate.
The table cannot hold, nor can the prayer
or leaf, but who could pray for such repair,
or such relief.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 23, Issue 1.
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