Bring your sins
and maybe a fruity red
Our kitchen table is a confessional spattered in candle wax and coffee rings Tangled ankles and legs lattice under the truth at our table We chew on secrets at our table - listen without judgement Offer forgiveness and perhaps some wine? or tea, whatever you want at our table Just last night, a great unspilling among the spoons - our guilty friend unfurling from head to tongue Wonderful words fit for a poem but it all stays at our table Another length of wax runs, the flowers wilting and we celebrate our humanness and fuck-ups - unblooming at our table And after dinner we clean up your sins Take your heavy and burn it with the candles make it beautiful at our table