The Diner


Here where all the bites are loaded

into passengers over the undulating

corpses of the sea.

Bring back our dredged,

collared slips of quicksand

where you sail over the hedge

into the loam with the cunning

of wizened old thieves:



between handfuls,

overt challengers of belonging

trapdoors in the whale doze

dreamt near a Jonah,



Here is where we meet again and again –

to double and as if

your glut and ours are merely

a comfortable pairing of hungry old friends.