the air. We need to clear the table.
your breath. You hold the table.
your cheek. I slap the table to make a point.
the music. Neighbors hear the table through the wall.
a mark. I leave the table.
your voice. You raise the table, drop it roughly.
I beg. Forgive me the table.
knocking. Neighbors, the table.
away. We pretend to be the table.
in bed. We lie the table apart.
sex. Why do we even have the table?
sleep. The table is resetting.