[stylist] Poem - "Waitress" - Final Draft

[William L Houts]

*Waitress *

(in memory of Nadine "Granny" Jackson)

Plates like galaxies braced

on her arm, she brings our eats.

It's craft she's gained from her thousands

on frayed carpet.

Breakfast crowds, dinner guests

all are arrayed

in their booths, a chorus

of murmurs arising like

prayer, her feet singing ows.

We dine, declaim, and coffee

drink like oasisingcamels.

Arriving, unhoped for

fulfillment, she pours and pours,

a prophetess fountain.

such gifting strength?I'd never

hold:my smile would

fail like dustbowl crops.

Waitress, lady, Grandmother

Deep: take twenty percent

and know I know

what suffering is, and what

it costs. O rest your

broken, faithful feet,

and bathe in hotrelease,

and bone revived

or husband held,

embrace your war-won sleep.











-- 


"Oh, Sophie!  Whyfore have you eated all de cheeldren?"