The last supper plate

2 Apr

The last supper plate

A reprise of The Last Dinner Plate

 

By L. Stewart Marsden

 

 

Balanced precariously on the edge of the kitchen island,

the hand-thrown pottery plate, last of a set of eight place settings

seemed to beg for a bump — a nudge — a jostle

to urge it and its contents down to the linoleum floor

where it shattered

in oh . . . so . . . slow . . . motion

and burst apart — uncountable shards of fired gray clay

skinned in thick Robin egg-shell blue

ushering the demise of days

where the we’s and the I’s dwindled down to

the me’s and the you’s;

the last blue glazed plate lay unmendable,

unrepairable,

unusable for the last intended supper.

 

Copyright © by Lawrence S. Marsden, 2 April, 2015
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4 Responses to “The last supper plate”

  1. Outlier Babe April 9, 2015 at 8:27 pm #

    If this isn’t the perfect description of the end of a relationship. Beautiful job, Skip. It’s a shame I don’t get over here more.

    • skipmars April 9, 2015 at 9:34 pm #

      I’m not keeping you from it . . . 🙂

      • Outlier Babe April 9, 2015 at 9:36 pm #

        The bitter end of my bitter ending was far more bitter than this, Skip. Your piece is how I imagine a more civilized but still very bitter and sad end would be.

      • skipmars April 9, 2015 at 9:38 pm #

        The difference between the living and the imagining of something is the living of it.

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