The Table

We pass hot flashes around the table like the bowl of baba ganoush.
The purple olives are tart, the green olives are sweet, the cheese is goat, do you want hot sauce on your momo?
There is more of everything.
The table is full
The table is loud LOUD
The table is not a memory
The table is water and we drink.

We decide to become elephants.
Let the women live together
let the men fight amongst themselves
let us gather in a circle around our babies
let us dip our trunks into the lake, lift our heads to the sky, and spray rainfall.