Kitchen Table

Photo by André Robillard on Unsplash

It has taken many years of being married
to agreement, years of being divorced
from the he in the she of me,
to finally agree it’s alright to disagree,
alright to make a difference of opinion serve,
spreading it between us like a table,
pulling up a chair and leaning on it,
knowing it will take our weight, it will
take our words, brewed just like coffee
and downed to the last strong drop before
we get up, lovers again neighbourly.

Which is why I praise the kitchen table,
the generous block of polished wood
that holds us at its ends, the salt and pepper
in the middle, ready to be shaken over
this altar to our various hungers,
to which we bring the meat
of our accomplishments, thankful
for the click and clack of the other’s cutlery,
for the filled plate we can empty,
squeezing the grape, the lemon, glass raised,
the tang lingering, livening our tongues.

This poem first appeared in my chapbook, “Stealing Eternity”.

4 thoughts on “Kitchen Table

  1. Lynne, I always read your poetry to Phil but this one also had to be shared for him to read for himself. I don’t know how to express it, but though the meaning was crystal clear from the reading/hearing of it, somehow the cadence perhaps, the clever analogies and flow of them, needed to be seen – kind of the veggies to accompany the meat and potatoes you already laid out for us!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Helen, and for sharing it with Phil! Some poems do better on the page than read aloud – perhaps this is one of them. However I love that you first do read poems to him!


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