i.
to eat this thanksgiving meal in the midst
of my enemies
to imbibe the wine crushed by stomping feet
which is your blood
to turn lazy-susans and clink glasses above
heads of prophets on platters
to look away from the darkening windows
and pass your broken body in the breadbasket
ii.
the dinner party continues, the conversation moves on
to another room, the shadowy figures still peering in
from the windows, the riots still blaring
on the screens and nearby streets
iii.
now the table is cleared and empty
ready for my prostrate form
I have been pursued / I have been hunted
now is time to lie trussed with shining
apple of good and evil in my mouth
the bounty on the table / the bounty on my head
iv.
the table is long and narrow
we knock knees as we sit to feast
amongst the shifting crowds
some sup with us for a lifetime, others
sample then move down the buffet line
we look to the head of the table, squinting
but cannot find you there
you are roaming, seated somewhere in our midst
then moving, swapping chairs with yet another
substituting yourself for us, then us for you
until we are interchangeable
v.
the table as altar / as communion / as meeting /
as coming / as going /
as living / as dying