Banqueting

Today stung my eyes 
on its way out 
it burnt 
my cheeks and
the top of my back

it made a slow farewell 
and a whispered beware 
always trust a sunset 
she knows

that peaches ferment 
and go sour 
if you leave them with no supervision 
for a couple of hours 
she knows 

that your friend will start crying 
and another will leave, call her ex, then return 
with a bird she stole 
and named Mrs me. 

We chase one another on the set table 
trying not to fall down, ill or in love 
or up in the sky.

From cages of bread 
mustard and foam leak in thick clumps 
all over the banquet 
curbing the scene.

 Let’s make plans for another
dance and run out of here 
unstick our legs from the chairs 
peel our bags off the wall 
and land on the street 

quiet and steady.
Ready for home.