by Alex Carrigan
Remember how a bell would ring whenever you said her name?
She floats above the dinner table, her hair passes the saltshaker.
A wound of her absence: a silk napkin still folded on the good china.
Thank your lord the bullet didn’t fall through your sunroof.
Curse your lord for leaving hers open that day.
At least you can still bring dessert to this year’s dinner.
You’re proud of the way you piped whipped cream in a rosette.
She always appreciated how steady your hands were when you were in love.
A piece of the tart will gather dust on her plate like it did last year.
You’ll hear dinner bells ringing throughout the day.
Even invisible, she’s impossible to ignore.
Alex Carrigan (he/him) is a Pushcart-nominated editor, poet, and critic from Alexandria, VA. He is the author of Now Let’s Get Brunch (Querencia Press, 2023) and May All Our Pain Be Champagne (Alien Buddha Press, 2022). He has appeared in SoFloPoJo, Cotton Xenomorph, Bullshit Lit, and more. Visit carriganak.wordpress.com or follow him on Twitter @carriganak for more info.
