The Dinner Table

The moment doesn’t have to be exact.

the dinner table isn’t quite set
hell, might as well mix the forks and knives
for the salad and steak,
let a wine glass break, or two, seven,
make sure the chairs are facing out
so the guests have to seat themselves,

and what about the rest?

what about it?
the candles, appetizers, the ambiance
leave it, away with it, do what will with it

The moment doesn’t have to be exact
I feel more alive that way, more there.

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About the Author

Don Mitchell is a Black American poet and performer currently writing in Ellenwood, GA.