We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it. At this table we gossip, recall memories and the ghosts of lovers.
Dad, can i tell you about the time i stood up for myself against a bully?
Don't Teethe on the table Anna.
Wars have begun and ended at this table It is the place to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to cerebrate the terrible victory.
Charge
Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing, crying, eating of the last sweet bite.