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East Window

How many years have we met at this table?
Rivers of nutrition poured over its surface,
pigs in a blanket, chickens in hell.
Words in their usages went out
between us and some will again.
Utensils arced, if portions changed.

Each swaying pleasantly
in the mind’s howdah over
the elephant of appetite
flattening other considerations,
we said, “Hut hut! Gee up!”
to our caparisoned beasts.

My love, in your wisp of hair
and manifest distraction,
before you, blueberries, as we like them.
See how I cleaned my plate
while I spoke to you in the spinning motes.
For God’s sake move your jaws.

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