By sean mcnulty
'Presuming' sophistry of me
You turned and walked
And I yelled
Until bailiffs and morning birds.
There will never be an emptier table than this one.
I’ll put a glass bowl on it and think of all
The fruit you brought, countryfresh.
There is nothing more to do
But retreat to the Masonic lodge
And to the snack bar where
Many delicious pomegranates