The table knife is papa,
tall and serrated for the dangerous
job of cutting.
Mama fork twirls
her shiny-tined skirt
in do-si-dos through
the mashed potatoes
on the girl's plate.
Salad fork daughter keeps an eye
on baby spoon, round in infancy.

Well, the woman says,
you certainly are a quiet one.
The man clears his throat
and drinks wine, deep red.

The girl rolls her silverware
inside a linen napkin,
stacked together;
fathermotherdaughterbaby.

The man and woman exchange
a glance, while the girl, seated
on a velvet cushioned chair, legs
dangling, spells out a word
under the table,
over and over
with her patent leathered foot:
FAMILYFAMILYFAMILY

Mary Ellen Seidel
5/15/2002