The moaning mouth of morning
woke you with a start, ache
to the bones of your teeth
out of the last hot gasp
of a dream
of a greenery maze
you followed broken branches
the heady aroma of jasmine
that blooms white under moonlight
to the end of the existential labyrinth
where you asserted yourself
announced who you were
to the hairy minotaur man
who laughed, whinnied, thrust
his small power at you, you
shrank down, withering
you chose to drown again
in your maudlin wine glass
tiny woman spilling over
until you stood up tall
hefted a whiskey toast
the battle cry of your genes
outlasting, outlouding
the embittered baby monster
boiling in your blood.
We're the Ezine dedicated to all things barroom. We are slightly off what others consider the norm and always the last to close the bar. If you prefer the local dive bar to the glitz of some overpriced club then you're our kind of people. So welcome grab a drink and enjoy.
Friday, March 8, 2024
Just Another Hungover Day By Mickey J. Corrigan
Originally from Boston, Mickey J. Corrigan writes tropical noir with a dark humor. Her poetry has been widely published in literary journals and chapbooks. In 2020, Grandma Moses Press released Florida Man. Her novel The Physics of Grief puts the fun back in funerals while taking a serious look at the process of mourning (QuoScript, UK, 2021).
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
SHE SAID By Mike Zone
She said “I love it when you drink you son of a bitch” Lifting sundress Over her head My grandfather’s starter pistol in my mouth We don’t ...
-
Why do I bother plugging the phone in? if I’m waiting for good news, it won’t come miracles do happen but they never happen to me so I might...
-
The porch holds smoke. Not a room. A line. Neighbors on the rail. Shoulders set. No give. Sailors kick the Atlantic off their boots. Salt hi...
-
Maybe about a hundred people know about this place, but you only ever find not even a dozen troubled souls on any given night here. Directio...
No comments:
Post a Comment