The Desk

We talked, both of us,

and the desk stood in-between.

Words from a side were

shoved across, while the

ones in response choked,

limped to reach the other.

Hands on the desk made gestures,

reached out to far ends

like the wind on a wild day,

picked things up and put down.

The desk was thin when he spoke,

but gained elephant weight

when it was my turn

and the hands lay crushed below.

We talked, I tried to,

with a desk in-between.