IN A RESTAURANT by Stephen Santus
Winner of the individual poem category in the The Forward Prize & commended in the
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.