I hope for messy eaters

who tear supper loaves apart

as if there were no tomorrow

passed from hand to hand

crusty crumbs descend

from board to this bare place

manna at night

I hope for rowdy eaters

who wave big-knuckled hands

to illustrate loud opinions

downsweep catches the cup

it clatters down to me

still in its dented bowl

water from rock

I hope for happy eaters

who hip to hip on benches

sway to their mothers’ songs

napkins slide from knees

parachutes with cargo

cores of new green apples

Eden again