The Dinner Party

It's a dinner party
where nothing ever happens.

No one risks the sentence
that would split the table open.

Life stays unresolved,
politely.

So we cling to our chairs,
time the ovens,
and wonder
if there's another bottle
hiding in the closet.

I attend these dinners
again
and again,
each time
more starving.

I am
a ruptured esophagus,
trading wine
for blood.