Serve It Up
By Rebecca Hersh

“Serve me up another shot of bitterness”
she said, still smoking, her eyes watching nothing.
“Let me look again at what he’s stolen.”
I told her to move on, that she’d had enough tonight.
But she held out her last dollar.
“Serve me up another shot of bitterness.”
I served her, I didn’t have the strength to fight.
He had done her wrong so wrongly, made her so angry she couldn’t breathe.
It’s been years, but still she’s seething.
Counting all the evidence,
a lawyer proving he’s a bastard.
I watch her, drunk again on her misery.
And when I tell her to go home, it’s a pink skied dawn.
She shoots me a look and tells me he doesn’t deserve to be defended.
But with all her crazy searching,
she can’t seem to see,
that as long as she hates him, and refuses to forgive,
he will claim a part of her.
Which is, perhaps, what he wanted all along.
But still she sings her song as I lock up for the night.
“Let me relive it again, let me remember, I want to to dial the number, I
want to hear his voice.”
(The one she keeps telling me she hates.)

Rebecca Hersh is a 10th grader at Eastern Christian High School. She lives in Ringwood, N.J. with her mother and step father and spends time in New York with her dad. She enjoying writing and hopes one day to be a journalist.


Loss  | Vashon | Services | Art | Poetry | Store | Contact

© 1999 KotaPress All rights reserved.  ISSN 1534-1410
Please direct comments regarding this web site to