Caitlin Cruser

MANDEE WAS LATE MOST DAYS, IF SHE CAME AT ALL

With a shaved head  

and a treble clef on her neck 

she kept the checkout lines moving

 

In the break room one day 

one eye was held shut by a bruise 

the other with sleep 

 

The manager said 

we can’t help her if she won’t help herself  

so we did nothing. 

Winner of the Gerald Stern poetry prize and the Joan Didion award for creative nonfiction, Caitlin Cruser lives and writes in Western Pennsylvania.

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