By Keri Lindenmuth
Pretty Little Teacup
pretty little tea
cup
sitting on your
saucer
I grasp your delicate
handle
engaged in
conversation
Image © Christopher Read (https://www.flickr.com/photos/rategoodpopularculture/6029117259)
Sunday Brunch
Waiters in white scurry between tables
And clear the diamond-cut dishes, as invisible
As the breeze and as silent as mice. The piano
Player’s fingers dance across the keys, music
Floating over the din in the hotel’s ballroom,
While women in their Sunday best chat
With men, their tailored suits black
And clean. Like children, they play
Make-believe. They are Carnegie
Enjoying a lavish meal, Audrey Hepburn
Having breakfast, Eloise
At the Plaza, but for only an hour
Or so, until the piano stops playing,
Until the dishes are cleared and the waiters
Remove their constricting ties. They button
Their coats, brace for the cold, and venture
Outside where time unfreezes from
Its elegant hold and passes once more.
Keri Lindenmuth is currently a college sophomore working towards her English degree. Her nonfiction essays have won regional, statewide, and national contests while her works of fiction and poetry have been published in several literary magazines. She hopes to pursue a career in professional writing.
