The Dinner Table

[TheFifthElement]

There’s a crack that runs the length of the table,
bloodless as an open vein long after
the heart has stopped beating.
I run my hand along it and think of
all the things I’ve spilt there over the years;
the tears that followed a toppled cup,
my quiet child’s voice sinking into the gap,
the troubles I couldn’t speak of,
my anger, like wine, staining.
I wonder if it’s a coincidence that the gash
stretches almost directly down the middle.
I stare at my family from one side,
from the other they reach out their hands.
The gap widens, until they are so far away
that I can’t see them anymore.

[symphony]

Its simple and telling. And takes a most unexpected turn. I like it.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I quite agree with dear Symphony. I was utterly unprepared for that turn at the ending but in retrospect - as should be the case with such seemingly sudden veerings - it made sense, sad, very understated sense. How wonderfully well your delineation of the table makes us visitors there!

[Sweets America]

What a wonderful poem! I love it very much! It tells so much and I love the idea of the crack in the table.

[AuntShecky]

The thought behind this piece is very valid, and is part of the conventional wisdom that wonders "if the walls could talk. . ."
Our "habiliments (that word from Aristotle) witness histories of a house and a family and mutely keep their secrets.

Oh, and I don't want to trivialize your piece in any way, but maybe you'll get a kick out of this joke from Richard
Lewis. He said that whenever his dysfunctional family got together around the dining room table they'd open the windows on opposite sides of the room, so they could get
"cross aggravation!"

[kiz_paws]

Your poem was very moving, I enjoyed it very much. :)

[wagravity]

very powerful poem, vivid imagery and solid flow. this is indeed a moving piece. great work