IN A RESTAURANT  by Stephen Santus

Winner of the individual poem category in the The Forward Prize & commended in the

The Bridport Prize

This gesture I make to ask for the bill,

Writing on the air

With an imaginary ballpoint,

I learnt from Christopher,

Who learnt it from his father,

Who learnt it himself somewhere.

Christopher’s father is long dead:

He echoes less and less.

How strange that what survives of us

Is what we would hardly guess.