dinner by Catherine Grossman

dinner

it seems impossible now
I knew my lines so well

not actual lines mine
was not a speaking part

I’d walk down the hall
toward the dining room

its eight place settings
I’d approach the door

meet my father’s eyes
who’d raise a finger

circle it in the air and I’d turn
180 degrees walk back out

to comb my unruly hair

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Catherine Grossman’s work can be found in Lilith, Tipton Review, Flying Island, Apricity, Claw and Blossom, Lit Pub and elsewhere. She is the recipient of a Golden Key Graduate Award and studied poetry at Warren Wilson College. She lives in West Lafayette, Indiana.

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