Tumble

Tear it down.
I bit back the thought, love
It’s a hard idea
And when I set the table tonight
And smoothed my napkin in my lap
And felt my own revolutionary hand
Wipe across my thigh
I made a “no” flick
With my head
To nudge the thought out

I am not the crash of an era
And this is not the eclipse of an empire
It is just
Dinner
It is not the parting wish of a prince
It is not the last cry of the last Caspian Tiger
Not even a plate
Holding a late October plum

But as the fork teeters in my hand
And I see the subtle bend to my fingers
The same bend I saw
My great grandfather use to clutch me
I suddenly believe in the evolution shaking
At the end of my strong young arm

And I bite
And I swallow
And I wait for the fall
And in my mind’s eye I watch me
Tomorrow
Full
And kicking the stately ruins
Like nothing but bottle caps
The tumble like trimming
To a wide and busy sidewalk