Still Setting the Table

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
I still buy two croissants every Sunday
The baker knows
The baker has known for eighteen months
And the baker
Wraps them in paper
And says nothing
And the saying nothing
Is the kindest French
Anyone has spoken to me
Since the morning
The second croissant
Stopped having a mouth
I bring them home
And I put both plates out
Because the cupboard
Releases them in pairs
And my hands
Are not interested
In my arithmetic
My hands set two places
The way the tide comes in
Without consulting the schedule
And I let them
Because correcting the hands
Feels like a second funeral
And one
Was enough
[Pre-Chorus]
And the second croissant
Sits on the second plate
Until the evening
When I wrap it in the paper again
And put it in the bin
And the wrapping
Is the most tender thing
I do all day
I wrap it
Like it matters
Because it does
Because he would have eaten it
And the would have
Is a room I still live in
Even though the lease
Expired eighteen months ago
[Chorus]
Encore à table, encore à table
The love that sets the plate he'll never use
Encore à table, encore à table
The phantom hand
Still reaching for the bread
The brain has not been told
Or has been told
And has refused
The paperwork
The brain is still expecting him
At seven
And at seven
The chair is empty
And the brain
Files a missing person report
Every single evening
That no one processes
And the not processing
Is the grief
And the grief
Is the love
Still looking for its address
[Verse 2]
Bà ngoại was widowed at fifty-three
And she wore white for a year
Which in Việt Nam
Is the colour of mourning
Not of weddings
And I thought how strange
That the same colour
Means I do
And I did
And the distance between the two
Is just tense
Just grammar
Just the cruelest conjugation
Any verb has ever done
Và bà vẫn nấu cho hai người
And she still cooked for two
For eleven years
Not because she was confused
But because the portion for one
Felt like a statement
She was not willing to make
The portion for two
Was not denial
It was the refusal
To let the arithmetic
Be the final word
On a marriage
That deserved
A longer sentence
[Chorus]
Encore à table, encore à table
The love that sets the plate he'll never use
Encore à table, encore à table
I am not ready
For the cupboard
To release one plate
I am not ready
For the baker
To wrap one
I am not ready
For the portion
That says: this is the size
Of your life now
I know the size
I'm just not
Confirming it
With crockery
[Bridge]
The motor cortex
Holds a map of the other person
Years after they've gone
The hand reaches
For the shape that was beside you
At three in the morning
And the reaching
Finds the cold sheet
And the cold sheet
Is the notification
The body sends itself
Seventy times a night
That the map
Is out of date
But the motor cortex
Will not redraw it
Because redrawing
Would mean admitting
That the territory
Has changed
And I don't want the territory to change
I want the map
And the croissant
And the two plates
And the seven o'clock chair
And the baker
Who says nothing
And the nothing
That holds me together
Better than any sentence
Anyone has assembled
From the available words
Which are all
Too small
For this
[Outro]
Encore à table
Two croissants
Eighteen months
The baker wraps them in paper
The hands set two plates
The evening wraps one back
And tomorrow
I will buy two again
And the buying two
Is not madness
The buying two
Is the I do
That the white dress
Never got to take back
And I won't take it back either
Not yet
Not yet