Poetry | February 11, 2020


On my first day at the new job I scanned my whole body and could not find a name
I felt like a biblical error, I had to lie down
Etiquette says a young widow must not dress in flashy jet
Etiquette says children under 8 in black mourning are too sad
I felt like any words I spoke would take the form of a confession
I confessed pages of telephone numbers but nobody picked up
It was the night shift
The night like a long room with windows in inconvenient places
I did not know how to arrange the furniture in a beautiful way
I had been trained in how to love people a little
Though I worked many hours there was nobody there
I mean I never saw another soul, least of all my own

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