I’m Not at Supper

I’m not at supper tonight and
I hide from it often, maybe because
You said we must gather together
At the end of the day, but by then,
I’m done with togethering. I wished I’d stayed at
Target (the kids and I were happy there,
Sort of) playing house in Seasonal,
Opening and testing folding chairs.

I’m not at supper tonight but I
Hear it still, the flatware
Striking the porcelain, and in between your
Even-keeled voice, which is just a mush
Of instructions– like all our life now: one
Duty repeated after another, from
Alarm till bathtime, with a toe of
Laughter, and a few bars of “How do you
Solve a Problem like Maria?” elbowed
In between.

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