offering

thread noodles through your fingers
cut fresh lemons into the iced tea
slice an avocado into eight pristine wedges
rinse the lettuce with great tenderness
make an artful arrangement of watermelon and mango
and small crimson plums

this is just the beginning
this will not lead you to salvation
this will not be your passageway to freedom
it will not mend your heart or anyone else's

it will simply be the meal from which
you will rise, after your water glass has been drained,
to enter a room with unfamiliar furniture
where a great stripping will occur, birds pecking
at the roof and dashing themselves against the windows

your body will twist and shudder, you will remember
the cheesecake cooling on a rack in the kitchen,
and you will want to run

you will not run

instead, you will hold your palm against
the great heart of the room,
the deep mystery of its earth, and a meal
not of your own making will come to greet you
with a ferocity and shatter and ruin and beauty
you will not have words for,
and you will weep from such an offering