By Dominic Loise

Dining in The Food Anti-Processor section 
privacy insured past a neon cheap plastic chain 
a single booth without seating on the other side
barricaded off from the other customers’ eyes
to prevent their rubberneck gawking 
and the other diners from second guessing 
themselves as the double duty waitstaff 
asks if they too have room for dessert, as the sound 
of my overstacked plates, spread out across the table, 
are scraped of every morsel by a numbly gripped fork
in tight turbine motion, hand to mouth burying feelings, 
never out of rotation, unless to signal over the next course 
or wave off the manager, whose gold chains 
and dowsed cologne, breaks sensory overload throwing
out of order a menu to suppress memories 

Dominic Loise is open about and advocates for mental health awareness, as seen with his essay writing for F(r)iction. Dominic’s poetry has appeared in multiple journals, and he was a finalist in Short Editions’ “America: Color it in” contest. Find him on Twitter and Instagram.