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Dinner at the Who's Who
amidst swirling wine
and flickers of silver guests quote
Dante, Brecht, Kant and each other.
I wait
in the hall after not
powdering my nose, trying to re-
compose that woman who’ll
graciously
take her place
at the table and won’t tell her hosts:
I looked into your bedroom
and
closets, smelled your
“ Obsession” and “Brut,” sat
on your bed, imagined you
in
those spotless sheets, looked
long into the sad eyes of your son
staring at your walls from his frame.
I
tried to smile at myself
in your mirrors, wondering if you
smile that way too: those resilient
little
smiles one smiles
at one’s self before facing the day,
or another long night ahead —
guests
coming for dinner.
So I wait in this hall because
there are nights it’s hard
not
to blurt out Stop! Stop
our babble: Pulitzer, Wall Street, sex,
Dante, politics, wars, have some Chianti...
let’s stop and talk. Of our
thirsts
and obsessions, our bedrooms
and closets, the brutes in our mirrors,
the
eyes of our sons.
There is time yet — let’s talk.
I am starving.
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Copyright © by Laure-Anne Bosselaar
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