On Monday in a restaurant
Your mother's ghost, eating with friends,
Nods to you from two tables over.
When you return on Tuesday
Your mother's shadow brings you
A wine glass filled with cider.
On Wednesday -- why do you
Keep eating there? --
Your mother's reflection shrugs
From the waitress' silver tray.
All these encounters are strange but
Each one differently so.
No comments:
Post a Comment