Saul Nadatas last blog post..Dinner Party

There are so many ways to find satisfaction!
Today,
the crust end
of a loaf of French bread,
the unwanted remnant of last night’s dinner,
inspired me to pull vinegar and oil
from my imagination,
and make something crusty
delicious.

Saul Nadatas last blog post..Dinner Party

Later, dinner served,
your eyes drift across her
with casual possession,

and I see the host blanch,
recognizing at last
that no formal vows
block attraction.

Saul Nadatas last blog post..Dinner Party

Has potential but needs much work.

And yet, it does feel as though there’s something missing. I think it’s one detail only – how did the speaker know “him” before this occasion? Student, fellow artist, ex-lover??? It needs just a word or two of back story.

I just love, “while you resent me for the flower / in my hair.”

Now at the bar,
while he greets friends and fellow artists,
you make a casual inquiry
into my formal education,
into how I make my living,
and my face shutters
as yours did
when you saw me walking toward you
on the candled city street
and he said hello
and your grip tightened
on his arm.

I know your kind
but I recite
a hollow resume for you
while you resent me for the flower
in my hair.

And you have no more conversation,
so I turn my attention
to the stranger at my left
while you stare at
anaglypta on the walls.

Later, at the table,
with your pretended inattention,
with your eyes drifting, seeing nothing,
with your nothingness to say,
you sit, say nothing,
while all his people, strangers,
discuss art and film and music
until his name is called
and he accepts his award
and then returns and your grip tightens
on his arm.

I know your kind
but I, polite,
try to include you in our talk
while you resent me for the flower
in my hair.
___________

Not an entirely successful poem. I think it will require editing and re-writing.

It kind of reads a little juvenile to me – too direct, telling instead of showing. But I need to sit on it a while.

I take this plate before me on the table.
It’s round, it’s white, the rim is slightly raised.
The tiny, feathery flowers around the edge
look like waratahs or fleur de lys.

The china shine reflects the ceiling shadows.
One one side, near the bevel of the rim,
lies a casual dollop of Tadziki dip.
It could be cream – white, unidentified.

Light from the window forms a triangle
reflecting on the section opposite me.
All these white on white divergent shades
of grayer or brighter white, opaque or gloss!

The green around the edge is dull, shaded,
formal patterns of light and dark in sequence:
the dark leaves fanning out symmetrically,
the lighter sometimes fanning, sometimes flat,
and sometimes shaping fractal curlicues.

Dotted among them, minute flowers form stars.