Leftovers

Spread the banquet

in the darkened hall

and save a seat,

surely I'll be there

sometime maybe

even just

next week

give me

a moment,

to let it all sink

in,

at the vestibule

where the skins

change, aged,

by miracle,

inside, I mean

before the dishes

are categorically

due, again

for scrubbing...

I'll paint the picture

of how the gravy

engraves the edge

of the plate

like a print

escaping the scrape

of the last utensil

in a repas

that was meant

to satiate

the commission

of a familiar portrait

left, unfinished

in pressing

the thing we

most miss, on

riding the camel

of wayward abyss

into undefined

Western set oasis...

and looking back

gilded, we'll God bless,

the garbage disposal

in the drain..!

as we're moving

along

the piped dream

finding that

somehow

the dispenser jaws trap

the tarnished locks

always threatening

with an emergency call

at the plumber's office:

"what's that..!?

a major clog?!,

or minor leak?"

and among the

gray snake coils and foil

they already know

all about it

down the street,

the way

memory fades

with each Macy's

TV parade,

which

if anyone asks

was turned on

(exclusively)

for the Children's sake!

and like with pie...

there's always room

for you out there

after the decimal

for one more

random figure

to pull up and sit

in the cool foyer;

but it's no rumor

the family's getting

bigger,

even as its members

retreat in count

on comfortable

ulteriors,

the porch creaks

with the ghosts

of passing feet

that mark in time

the distance and heat

the ruler, and the rule

failed to keep

where we all

took measure

of the stock,

and the broth

that was made

long, back when...

in a steam

of our bouillon cube,

all was vacuum packed

and carefully wrapped,

from bones picked-clean

2 million odd years ago...

04.06.2024

MPC for April "till we're done" challenge @Prose