Night Dinner
I knew a man
who was dining
a cancer.
Alone.
Every single night
he ate with the hunger
of a spider enchanted
by a fly's swirling dance,
with a sparkle
in his eyes.
Oh, his rainy eyes!
This man finally ate the fly,
dancing now by himself
fly's absent dances,
featherly pulsing
the net of time.
He even bought
a second chair
for his dinner table.
Copyright © Christos Tsanakas | Year Posted 2016
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