A hole in the sky where gravity
doesn’t apply. Small objects
flick into the ether beyond.
Outdoors at the Japanese restaurant
by the falls we notice plastic
tableware and dishes of sauce
rise and disappear. The waiter,
when we ask where the objects go,
prefers to speak no English.
Metal tableware and our plates
remain but look uneasy,
and your hair stands up like a ruff.
Still, the squat red candles blaze,
the sushi arrives and remains here
long enough for us to eat it.
We enjoy the sizzle of water
over the falls, play of floodlights
on the flecks of vegetable foam and twigs
breaking their backs
on the rocks below. The waiter
glances up at that hole and smiles.
Some of the other diners move
indoors, unhappy with the tug
of the heavens. Despite the fluff
of your hairdo, we’re inclined
to sit all night and hope the hole
gathers strength enough to grab us.
We don’t know how far we’d rise,
but none of the ascended objects has fallen,
and we’d like to share
a close-up of planets rolling
like great ball bearings, starlight
warm against our awkward smiles.
William Doreski, NH, USA