Who’s coming to dinner tonight? <br />The silver and china are out <br />Guest that I am in this house <br />that used to be mine <br /> <br />Who’s come to travel through <br />the twilight of our life? <br />when time’s become confused <br />and all our affairs <br />rearranged according to consequences? <br /> <br />Who’s coming to dinner? <br />as the heart quickens with every breath? <br />The charts have all been laid <br />once now and for all <br />here where the lines of our faces <br />curl and curve to a melody <br />written and ripened in time <br /> <br />There is a strange party <br />that moves in the candlelight <br />that hovers in the twists of a grandmother’s hands <br />and whispers into the silence <br /> <br />A house was built <br />in the common manner <br />The walls stand dry now as foxes at the death <br />The hunter counts the place mats <br />and pulls his stallions up <br /> <br />Deep within the holes <br />of this endless aftermath <br />the rain cries out that it can come no more <br />and the hallways dematerialize <br />scampering away into the ground <br />You have a family <br />but you got caught not knowing <br /> <br />The moon alone hangs high <br />as a mirror for our introspection <br />where we speak without punctuation <br />simultaneously and unheard <br /> <br />Now surely this is a dream <br />sent squiggling out of time <br />to remind us there was a time <br />before our sensibilities<br /><br />Tom Courtney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/who-s-coming-to-dinner/
