A Minion of Death Serves Breakfast at the Wakeup Hotel

waiter.jpg

Too anorexic to work as a fashion model

(with translucent skin whiter than the ghost

of porcelain drawn tight over his shaved

skull, black apron wrapped like a shroud

around his skeletal frame, eyes set deep

as if peering from a cave, mouth set

in a show of perpetual doom) he has taken

a job as a hotel waiter, moving around

the restaurant with zombie-like efficiency;

he performs his duties wordlessly, with

neither smile nor nod, replenishing the fruits

that nourish the living, with the secret

knowledge that death will take them soon

and he will feast finally on brains.

 

Copyright 2017

T. Allen Culpepper

Thor Makes Coffee in Vesterbrø

VesterbroJoeandJuice

The barista wasn’t actually called Thor,

though he certainly might have been,

fair but strong Nordic features and

long platinum hair pulled back from

his face, grasping the espresso-machine

handle as if it were the fabled hammer–

godlike in his strength and beauty,

the mythic illusion marred only

by the incongruous sweatshirt

from an American university,

where he’s probably the star

of the rowing team or something.

And the cappuccino was good as well.

 

Copyright 2017

T. Allen Culpepper

Sunshine

My student introduced herself as Sunshine

and wrote in her journal that she had never

lost a friend or family member to death

and was engaged to marry the first and only

boy that she had ever dated, and that,

unlike her classmates, she couldn’t write

about her troubles because she had never

really had any.

 

Reading her observations,

I sat for a moment stunned, wondering

whether to celebrate her fortune or mourn

her lack of life experience, to wish

for her cocoon to hold itself intact or to fear

what might happen when it breaks open

and she discovers that even a butterfly

must take wing into a world of risk.

 

Copyright 2017

T. Allen Culpepper