FUCKING AT THE DINNER PARTY

08.02

08.02

dedicated to Mitch Anders and Esme Lewis

and then out of nowhere it happened
the couple crawled up onto the table
smearing the mashed potatoes with their knees
cranberry sauce tipped over mixing with spilled gravy
they began to make out ferociously
lips and tongue and sixty-four teeth
the family stared on in awed silence
as they began to undress, chucking plates at the wall
button by button she removed his oxford white
as his hands began to slip up her pencil skirt
stiff china crashing onto fancy carpet
his head fell down against the turkey like a pillow
as she viciously straddled him
her left knee by her mother-in-law
her right by his great uncle louie
and there they were
heavy breaths beneath the chandelier
rising and falling at thanksgiving dinner
eyes closed then open rolled back in ecstasy
some of the audience left the dining room theater
some just stuck in breathless paralysis

they broke off the off-switch on their love
they drove separately to the dinner party
but you can believe they came together

when dessert was served
it went on in a silence where even breaths were hushed
the clinking of spoons in coffee cups
chairs pushed gently away from the table
when the evening was over

and no one ever really was sure
if they broke a commandment
or started a revolution

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2015

This poem is part of the 08.2015 project, 31 poems in 31 days. To read the poems from the beginning click here.

Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

4 thoughts on “FUCKING AT THE DINNER PARTY”

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