POETRY
This Table
Between us
A table
four legs, wide surface
Form and function
Function over form.
Pragmatism
Functionalism
Supporting one’s work
Supporting one for work.
One chair, two chairs
Four chairs or more
No chair, makes no difference
Who is counting, anymore?
Sturdy as it comes, sturdy as it should
I’m here, you’re there
But this conversation
Isn’t fucking going anywhere.
We tried
I cried
The rift is now
a great divide.
I ask for a hug
You say, What’s the point?
I try to reach you
You simply reply Me too.
But distance, distance
This screaming coldness between us,
you can tell it’s done
fuck, we’re so over and through.
We tried, we tried
Yes Lord, we tried
So long and so hard
Your heart is gone, my longing has dried.
Here I sit
looking at you
You’re mocking me
at the things I do.
For all these years
I cooked for you
It was takeout you desired
Cold noodles and tofu.
We tried,
we fucking tried
To fix this table
It’s lost a screw, perhaps a few.
And now, oh dear
You asshole motherfucker
It can never be fixed
it will never be stable.
The tears you lied
and Lord knows you’ve tried
we can never recapture
the joy and blue skies.
Despite what we do
No matter how much
We say to each other
I like and love you.
There is this table
Always this fucking table
Stuck right here
in between me and you.
Warm touch, soft kisses
Night drives and stolen glimpses
I know you regret
The things you said.
But nothing can reverse
Or change the converse
that will remove this fucking table
that sits between us.
Dedicated to my cousin Hani who asked on several occasions, “Eh what happened to that poem you wrote about a table or something?”
