Restaurant, Zurich by William Doreski

Six leaves on one sad plant.

Zurich shouldn’t look like this,

a fragment of German caught,

reversed in a mirror, steel doors

opening into a white space

that kills the grimmest hunger.

Is this merely a photograph

we inhabit, or don’t? The walls

are so finely grained a child

might mistake them for icing,

but the angle of the mirror

suggests a more sinister motive.

How did we get here? Air

or rail, bus or car? Dimensions

ignore us. The plant, thriving

despite its forlorn posture,

accepts our presence simply,

waving in the various light.

William Doreski's work has appeared in various e and print journals and in several collections, most recently The Suburbs of Atlantis (AA Press, 2013).