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  • Home
  • About
    • About Us
    • Contributors
    • Support Us
  • Submit
  • Current Issue
  • Archive
    • Volume I >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume II >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume III >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume IV >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume V >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume VI >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II

The Haunting of the Diner

by Alison Jennings
The disembodied essence of former beings
on this planet, we’re holograms from the past.
 
Our place in the world is where they least
expect, not cemeteries or the gallows, but
a local diner, lingering like cigarette smoke.
 
We’ll manifest to be mischievous, steal things,
close and open doors, exude perfume or sulfur.
 
Finishing customers’ drinks, eerily swinging
chandeliers, we bump paintings off walls,
spooking patrons (though some get used to it). 
 
There’s footsteps and phantom piano during
the off-hours, the jukebox starting by itself. 
 
Within ourselves, an internal mirror darkens,
as senses strain to function, merely a taste
of mortality left, a buttonhole without a coat.
 
We haunt certain spots, behind the bar or near
a well, where a child drowned in the 1700’s.
 
Servants of too many masters—demons,
spirits, shamans, and spiritualists—we’re kept
from the living realm but will never go away.

Alison Jennings is a Seattle-based poet who taught in public schools before returning to poetry. She has had over 60 poems published internationally in numerous journals, including Burningword, Cathexis Northwest Press, Meat for Tea, Mslexia, Poetic Sun, and The Raw Art Review. She has also won 3rd Place/Honorable Mention or been a semi-finalist in several contests. Please visit her website here.