The Tablecloth

The tablecloth
90 inches round
of my kitchen table hangs to the floor
the table that Pinky and Gaytha Underwood gave me (they are both dead now).
It was a gift to them from PW Underwood, football coach at Auburn University.

My dog, Keats, hikes his leg on the skirt of it. So--
every day I fold it up over itself
And I think of MawMaw Robinson
and her table full of jams, jellies, cakes, and candy jars
which she would unveil as if a magic trick
(and it was magic to me)
when we would come over to spend the night-
her tablecloth would fly in the air and catch the wind
as sheets in country summer.

And my tablecloth is now stuck
in the rotors of the washing machine
as I watch the one-year memorial to tribute and to salute
 Princess Diana on T.V.
and I think--these are the days we are guaranteed.

8-31-98 10:05 pm

Robert Robinson

Winter

“Winter is a Wickedness; a bone-chilling preview to what Death has in store for us.”


by Robert Robinson
1-14-2012