Dec 06
An Evening Meal (Gilbert)
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An Evening Meal, by Celia Gilbert, (1932-)
I take out a heaping plate of beans,
slice one tomato in glorious
cartwheels. Love apple.
I’m expecting your call.
What we’ll say will be ordinary;
when we hang up, “I love you,”
an exchange of equivalents
but not exactly. We’ve always
gone about it in character —
I, casual, capricious,
and you, tender, clever, giving.
A solitary light casts a shadow
near my plate. I lift my fork
and the cat leaps
into my lap, startling
as the word widow arrived
from nowhere. The meal
with its impromptu gaiety stales,
the tomato dries and the beans,
each has a number.