Poetry by Kenneth Pobo

I welcome you to my diner. 
With silence. 
Here’s a window seat
so you can watch cars go by
like logs on a cement stream.  Or
you can talk with your server
who can figure sums
in their heads and read your mind
at the same time. 

I have laminated menus. 
If you spill tea all over them,
they will still say “Look at me. 
Order whatever you desire.” 

The white napkins get grouchy
under silverware, prepare
a revolution just by unfolding. 

I close at eleven. 
When I turn out the lights,
a silver tray of night
holds invisible keys
that become carnations
for each table in the morning.

Kenneth Pobo (he/him) is the author of twenty-one chapbooks and nine full-length collections. Recent books include Bend of Quiet (Blue Light Press), Loplop in a Red City (Circling Rivers), Lilac And Sawdust (Meadowlark Press) and Gold Bracelet in a Cave: Aunt Stokesia (Ethel Press). His work has appeared in North Dakota Quarterly, Asheville Literary Review, Nimrod, Mudfish, Hawaii Review, and elsewhere. 

Photo by Colin Avery on Unsplash