wood glue

we try to put the dining table chairs
back together again. they keep 
turning into tarantulas 
while we are out in the city
picking pawpaws. everyone is hungry
in the insatiable way that requires butter.
the dining table says, "enough forks."
we use wood glue & stand still
like a performance art piece 
or a statue, waiting for the legs
to become legs again. once, i watched 
a boy i was dating sit on a chair 
& it shattered. the world just
doesn't always want to hold us.
i keep thinking i'm next when
i sit at the table. often there is
a roasted turkey on the table
that no one else can see. i want to give you
the dream house. i want to give you
everything without wobbling.
sometimes i'll go into someone's house
& think, "oh they're a person."
my house is where a goblin tries 
to grow tomatoes. the glue seems
like it's holding. really all you can do
is hope for the best. wait for 
the fall-apart & imagine it graceful.
i want to be the dropped dish 
everyone is fussing over. shards of me
fractured across the house.
we will find slivers for years to come.