The Gist of It (from Conchitiina Cruz's Dark Hours) by Marcel Antonio, 2026
The Gist of It
If you remove the placemats and paper plates, the haggard flowers, the teacup with an image of a woman in spring, spilled wine, the newspaper, and a ponderous pen, you will find it, the round face of the table, placid and certain, ready to bask in the morning sun.
The table knows only joy once uncovered beneath so many objects of no consequence. Despite the lost time, you have found it, and this in itself is a happy ending. Bless the table with the mist of the right wood polish, let its face revel in the sweet clarity of natural light.
Think of the table in your time of darkness: on your knees with tears in your eyes, searching for the familiar face, digging with your bare hands into the rubble.
—Conchitina Cruz, Dark Hours
All my life I’ve listened for the dark speech of silence, And now, every night, I hear a slight murmur, a slow rush, My blood setting out on its long journey beyond the skin.
—Charles Wright, from “Buffalo Yoga”