Trevor Mcleod Poet Quatrain

Pinching Napkins

I'm shuffling trays of food
and placing them up front.
I'm spilling on the way
in stains I'll later hunt.

I'm ever pinching napkins
and wiping spots of sauce.
Forever wiping up them
so later I can toss.

I've piled the garbage higher
with sweet and sour rags.
Left scrunched into a bow
to finish them of drags.

I'll order in more napkins
to later fill the rack.
But first I'll make some more sauce.
A dish from Sally Trac.

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