The Last Supper Poem by Atef Ayadi

it happens
occasionally
to sit and have
a supper
with a crowd.

some, are new and old friends,
companions,
acquaintances,
and apostles.
friends have always something in mind,
their needs never have been fulfilled or satisfied.
my enemies are at least clear in mind.
my lover is absent or armored by her own tattoos.

They gathered
around the table
for fun or for
something else
out of the blue;
human have
a need for gathering.
My supper
made me feel
like anyone
else,
nobody,
or between
a friend,
a lover,
and an enemy.