In a chair
Formed for a body
I am in a chair
And the back
Is wicker
I do so love
To say wicker
So I test it
My spine against the chair
The air in the sky
Is pure as ocean air
We are in the dining room
With a view
The light saturates the Great room
And up the steps to the table
The table is wood
Historical wood
For the knees it has covered
Covered itself by a tapestry
The cloth is white and hard
Flexible and it has
A tinsley gold band
On top of which is a centerpiece
Usually a centerpiece
But there is so much food
In the chair I sit
The felt cushion under me
It has probably been the silencer
The silencer of guest’s flatulance
For years
I sit up straight
As the roast lands on the table
By mitted hands
Bless the chef!
Wine is put on the table
For palatte most surely
But more obscurely to
Lower the possibility
Of many words spoken
Along with the food
To subdue all at the table
Into a singular mood
I shift in my chair
My chair with high back
My chair of wicker and dowel
The dining room table
Becomes a ship
And the meal
Sets us asail
As conversations begin
The ship leaves the dock
Food and talk