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Which Table Do You Remember?

Pieces of furniture, like sculptures, art objects saved, catalogued by fond memories.

Published onNov 15, 2023
Which Table Do You Remember?

Photo by Tom Swinnen:

Was it a repurposed table
someone made out of a door?

Was it the time I asked my grandfather
why he made a fire on the table

and without blinking he grabbed
a bucket full of water to put it out?

My grandmother cut hot mǎmǎligǎ on it
with a white thread.

Was it Betty and Murray’s table
with the best conversations?

Was it the side table in church
where families bring covrigi

and turtǎ dulce for the soul of the dead?
Was it the table where my father

saved a handful of apricots
for when my mother arrived home?

Somewhere there is a table
in a cool room despite the heat outside.

Pieces of furniture
like sculptures, art objects

saved, catalogued by fond memories.
Someone cut down the tree

it was made from, someone carried
the boards with a horse cart.

Hands softened the corners,
left an imprint. Wise patterns

of the texture tell a story:
like Brâncuşi’s table of silence,

the ones we lost break bread together,
feast on the fruits of good deeds.

Lucia Cherciu is the author of six books of poetry, including Immigrant Prodigal Daughter (Kelsay Books, June 2023) and Train Ride to Bucharest (Sheep Meadow Press, 2017), which was the winner of the Eugene Paul Nassar Poetry Prize. Her work was nominated multiple times for a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Her poems appeared in Poetry, Antioch Review, and elsewhere. She served as the 2021-2022 Dutchess County Poet Laureate and teaches at SUNY / Dutchess. Her web page is

Charles Martinet:

Flower delivery Italy The table on the first picture is typically memorable, while most “modern” tables seem bland and boring. I remember the dinner table at my parents’ house in Como (Italy). It was heavy and rugged. I mostly remember the feel of it, its weight. Its exact appearance is lost in my memory.