Lisa

The death of a waitress at the restaurant I work at.

i don’t get it

i saw you

just last week.

 

And you were finefinefine

            in your uniform

            whistling cigarettes

            cursing the manager

 

But you can’t be clocking in.

And you won’t be spilling salt

            over your shoulder.

 

i know you existed

            i touched the same table

            you did

            last week

when you were ecstatic

about your boyfriend coming in to town.

 

But your grandpa brought in your uniform.

i thought i was just winking blood

            But it was shock

And i turned

And i turned away

 

to see a shade of your face

in every shattered ketchup bottle

 

who were you

what are you

where should

i sit you now?

 

And how can i go back

And see the same people

when all of a sudden

 

            i don’t remember you

Reviews

[MadasonBlue]

Wow. This made me feel like crying a little at the end.
The feeling shows through, the confusion shows through.
No one close to me has ever died, but this poem kind of makes it seem like they have.
You did a wonderful job and conveying every single thought.

[Gandré]

In the lonesome voice of heart I hear a voice speak, reflection on experience that makes silent. thank you for submitting it to my contest.