Small Talk

Seated at the dinner table

erect

cautiously averting your gaze.

Silverware scratches softly

against ceramic plates.

The mechanical motions of your

mouth magnified tenfold.

The weighted obligation

to speak staggers me

as we fumble through greetings

in a drunken stupor.

Tripping face first into phrases

coated generously with barbed wire.

Limping away at strained speech

carelessly

stepping towards spoken mutilation

toeing around the edges

edging

Landmines.

Conversational—

Concealed cleverly in

transparent disguise.