“Banquet” by Alec Hershman

The dining-hall was white with fables,
holding hands with cloth.

A boy with a wick for a neck. Another
who whispered into the ear of the candle,

while napkins murmured a grace,
went limpid into laps. Amen.

The door blew open
and the prairie was a maid.

Rolled hay-bales through the pic-nic
benches. Then the aisles were indoor-outdoor.

Then there was a fence,
and there was out there.