Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Poem: The Waitress
This poem I wrote about seven or eight years ago. I think I was trying something different, trying to paint a scene and a relationship. Sometimes, I just wanted to go out of my comfort zone. I still do--that is what makes poetry (and any creative endeavor) exciting to me!
The waitress wore a green apron
and brought us our water.
The ice shook in the glasses
clinked in your eyes.
Don't open your mouth
to shake hell out of it.
You sit there, grease on your lips,
a limp breast on your plate.
No, no apologies.
The green beans steam--
You're so hungry for something.
She dances back, dessert balanced between us.
I love chocolate, hate you.
Your hands and mouth devour flesh.
Your body full, supple,