the resolution by Brian Lee (19, Singapore)

Sheraton Hotel

it has all come to this:
guests leaving in droves
in their sparkly limousines,
jostling lines at the front counter,
hollow, loaded echoes
of wheels on marbled granite.

they had found someplace
better. manager said, and I
did not comprehend. better?
cheaper, larger, comfier? to
what end? no answer was given
or could be supplied; they had
simply left, in suits and ties,
in gowns and heels. cold

gusts of air, brought in
periodically by the revolving
door, scheduled reminders of
failure. waiting at the vestibule,
i wear grace like a tailored vest
and stow away dejection. 
they dare not meet my eye.

when they arrived they were
different: they walked with big
strides towards the turning
panels, moving through each 
partition as a quarter pie chart
of enjoyment. we worked hard
to welcome them; i forewent

our anniversary, your birthday.
and now i am told not 
to assign blame. passages 
are normal, she said. when
a hotelier, your guests never stay.

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