Wednesday, June 12, 2013

First Waitress by Donal Mahoney

Image -

Outside, the still
of crickets.
Inside, petals
of a cold sore
a boutonniere
for full lips.
Looking up, I tell her
two eggs, basted,
hash browns,
coffee now.
Later on,
she says
the birthmark
I found
south of her navel 
she’s had
all her life.

No comments: