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The Waffle House





The Waffle House






The waitress is a goddess.

The wounded eternal

slouching half-attentive

marble sculpture

of daily life.

Not mythological –

something to really believe in. 



And it’s Sunday, how perfect.

Not swan-like, but craftsman

she emerges from a curtain,

walking to the beat

of our morning regret;

    she grants us forgiveness

with a cup of coffee

and has an everywhere-presence,

the way god

is supposed to.



And that’s really all we need—

not papers to analyze

or a burning light,

just someone who looks tired

but still

watches over our warm drink. 



                                                                                                                                   



                                              

                            



Alexandra Kulik



My work has appeared in K'in, Maudlin House, Punch Drunk Press, Bayou Magazine, Nthanda Review, and Black Fox Literary Magazine, among others.


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