joe osullivan

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With Her The Kitchen

with her the kitchens always closed
though the table set and waiting seems
to beckon take a seat surrender
to the solitary seeker drawn by nothing
more or less it seems
than endless invitations
yes
to feast upon the gutted carcass
of tommorrows understanding
and the empty hollow promise
of yesterdays redemption

the line is always long and drawn
beyond the shattered window
beyond the broken pane
beyond the missing gate
beyond the slipped knot
and bloody shoes
of the long gone slave now lost
to the darkness that the nightengale has called
down upon us from the distant hills
of freedom and redemption

called us home to what
an empty table set and waiting
one seat where nothing seems
to wait forever
where lost love lingers
just beyond the reach
of broken fingers

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