He thinks: it was thoughtful of her
to say yes when nobody’s looking.
Slumped across his plate
is the squelched dreamy yellow
of fake pearls and sunsets.
The tines of his fork trespass,
unbutton, catch the light.
We believe that the floor will hold, will
remain flat, so we can trample it all day.
But every surface tries to shake us off.
The white horses are ferrying the seasons.
The wild roses are wilting away; in a year, we
will learn to love the husks which they have left
behind. Then we imagine forgiveness disappearing
among the sun-scarred children […]