Meditation: Corner of a table

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Still Life: Corner of a Table, by Henri Fantin-Latour, 1873
Art Institute of Chicago

The following poem is not a judgment on this gorgeous painting by Henri Fantin-Latour, who is famous for paintings of flower arrangements. It is just a meditation prompted by the painting, that went off in a certain direction, deflected by a splinter in my head. As much as I love wabi-sabi pine, earthenware and distressed linen, I also love silver, crystal, damask and mahogany. And wine? Yes. And the yellow of lemons or pears that smiles upon us in a room when outside March rains darken the sky. I do love magnificence like this. It just becomes less savory knowing that not all can taste it. I know this is a bit heavy again. Don't worry, I don't feel morose, and I hope it doesn't make you feel that. As Shaista reminded me of Paul Simon's words in her comment in the last post, which was a reminder from my post before that, These are the days of miracle and wonder. Keep the cycle going.

Enough

A meditation on the painting "Still Life: Corner of a Table"

by Henri Fantin-Latour

Spare me the entire
table spread like a paragraph
of Henry James
unpacked from a sea-going trunk

Don't even think that presenting
just the princess sugar bowl, arms butterflied
and head dropping in shyness, will not be too much

And god no,
not the full
goblet of wine, so blood-rich it has all but disappeared
into the genealogy of the glass

Hide, please hide
the vinegar cruet
better than that
I can’t bear its amber-gold liquidity!

What do you mean
exposing the skins of those plump lemons
as if the white compote
lessened them with her modesty?

What do you think
the empty elegance of a cup and saucer
on glimmering damask

can do to transcend the lace
of rhododendrons
like foam from waves of the sea

reaching up to wash
the fruits and bones and porcelain sand
from the table

all under a furtive crescent moon
peering from her crystal pitcher of Bordeaux
I beg you

spare me all
but the empty corner of a frame
on a dirt-brown wall

We have had quite enough
magnificence for a century or two
And by "we" I mean just us here
at this corner of the table

Listen to a podcast of this poem here.

Listen to Joni Mitchell sing "Banquet" from her 1972 album "For the Roses" in the Grooveshark widget below the lyrics, about the imbalance of greed and need on our planet.

Banquet

by Joni Mitchell

Come to the dinner gong

The table is laden high

Fat bellies and hungry little ones

Tuck your napkins in

And take your share

Some get the gravy

And some get the gristle

Some get the marrow bone

And some get nothing

Though there's plenty to spare

I took my share down by the sea

Paper plates and Javex bottles on the tide

Seagulls come down and they squawk at me

Down where the water skiers glide

Some turn to Jesus

And some turn to heroin

Some turn to rambling round

Looking for a clean sky

And a drinking stream

Some watch the paint peel off

Some watch their kids grow up

Some watch their stocks and bonds

Waiting for that big deal American Dream

I took my dream down by the sea

Yankee yachts and lobster pots and sunshine

And logs and sails

And Shell Oil pails

Dogs and tugs and summertime

Back in the banquet line

Angry young people crying

Who let the greedy in

And who left the needy out

Who made this salty soup

Tell him we're very hungry now

For a sweeter fare

In the cookie I read

"Some get the gravy

And some get the gristle

Some get the marrow bone

And some get nothing

Though there's plenty to spare

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