Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Sunday, April 20, 2014

The Last Supper

tHE wine won't wash down the dreary WEariness
of this
meant to NOurish so why am 
I empty
the plates
fistS under napkINS
I fold
Dinner's COLD
as YOUr stARE.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Avant Edge: e.e. cummings

1 comment:

humbird said...

Ha. Very appropriate...:) Have a nice appetite!