Full Table

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FULL TABLE

What to call this peculiar strain

of ache, the fruit heavy

of late and the evening light

sagging to brush dew

off the grass. Is an abundance 

that hurts a sign of birth 

or just a bad back, some other

lack? Sure, the Big Chill is sure

to visit soil even this far

South, so I’m not, say, wishing 

it would get here now, but when

the flesh of those in other climes 

is even now falling off the vine, 

this full table feels dense 

as a cross. Overstuffed 

into hunger, I’m at a loss.


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