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Why we made restaurant reservations



When the silverware stayed up late
to catch us cheating on them-
only throwing things that leave dents, like
potted plants and tea kettles and
crockpots and saucepans. The spoons wallowed,
the forks shrieked, all our butter knives silently
seethed. They each turned scarlet, eroding to
rust, so we do not have supper at the table
anymore, not unless
we must.
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Submitted on August 30, 2016

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    "Why we made restaurant reservations" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2022. Web. 17 Jan. 2022. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/91249/why-we-made-restaurant-reservations>.

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