Unvarnished and worn by age
see it slouch by the wall,
its silence sharper than the kitchen knives.

We rely on something or someone sturdy.
Facing the candlelight at meals, he holds her
to resist the decay of ashwood

until it breaks at its last supper.
He knows where the kindling goes.
Waiting patiently at a table for one

Hear him creak with delight
beneath the weight of her body
as she reaches for the last bone.