Somebody's set the table wrong
with real linens
and more forks than you can
count on one hand.
Somebody's let the breeze blow
through the lilies
just enough to make you think
it is spring.
Somebody's made sure there's
a trump
of cream in the potatoes and
pesto mashed
from a basil leaf, perfect as the
moon.
Somebody's poured the wine
you can't afford
and placed your name at the
head of the table.
Somebody's gone through all
this trouble --
the music, Miles Davis and
White Stripes --
so, when the mood hits you,
you can cry or dance.
Somebody's let the dog in from
the porch
and given him a bone sweet
with marrow.
Somebody should have known
you eat a lot and then
throw up, and then wish you
were somebody else.
And I didn't even mention the
flame, the candles.
-- Leslie Anne Mcilroy
Leslie Anne Mcilroy's new book, Liquid Like This, from which this poem is taken, was published by Word Press. She won the 2001 Word Press Poetry Prize for her book Rare Space, and the Slipstream Chapbook Prize for Gravel. She lives in Wilkinsburg. Many writers featured in Chapter & Verse are guests of Prosody, produced by Jan Beatty and Ellen Wadey. Prosody airs every Tuesday at 7 p.m. on independent radio, WYEP 91.3 FM.
