A fair distance apart,

These round table lovers,

At equal curves of marble.

Their faces magistrate

Poised with purpose,

Riposting the rejoinder,

Pining for misgivings,

Giving enough of themselves

To endure

One more meal

In frigid solace.

To each other

They were attractive once,

When the space of unity

Was a seventh layer,

A fold in their union.

When words were not needed,

When conflict was late

And friction early.

When was their last date?

Oh, it is here, at this table

As wont to be spherical,

An axis to turn.

Each on their curve

A fair distance apart.

Thinking of themselves

While regarding the other.

They handle their forks in quiet

They sip their wine in solitary.

They do not argue

For what's the point.

They would not forgive

For they could not remember

When their smiles were genuine

Or their lips told truths

Or their tongues touched tender

In response to those moods.

Our round table lovers,

Expressions managerial,

Composed, they speak of their day

At work, at home,

Journeys held solo.

They speak of them fondly.

The other waits patiently,

Sipping soft wine,

Awaiting a turn to divulge monastic.

Black vinyl spins Giacinto Scelsi

For the silent one to listen to.

And their Sauvignon is warm

And their stroganoff grows cold.