Elegy
       

In the water left from the waitress's rag,
I made James's face:

pinched salt for the scar
below the eyebrow,

a fleck of pepper for a freckle,

bent straw for the bridge of the nose.

The trouble with my over-easy eggs
was their thin skins broke

with a touch of a butter knife.

The trouble with my coffee
was it took the cream and changed.

The trouble with me is I can arrange
three words however I please:

this isn't it

It isn't this

Isn't it this

Isn't this it

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Copyright © 2018 Keith Leonard All rights reserved
from Ramshackle Ode
Mariner
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission