Repast | Josie Hunter

The lodge was thick

with people and

the stench of salty soul food.

Why was everyone

conducting themselves

in the same dynamic as before?

As if she was still here.

Cookout music

—the sound of summer—

dancing.

It was supposed to

be a celebration,

but I felt

wrong,

disconnected,

sitting in the midst of it.

Like I didn’t belong

in the lodge.

Like her life didn’t touch mine

as it did everyone else’s.

Like I wasn’t supposed to be there.