smash my empty
glass
then
scoop &
gently
suck
palms of
jagged shards
to
sloppily
savour
the
coppery sting.
Stephen Ground is a writer and filmmaker based in Treaty One Territory (Winnipeg, Manitoba).
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Harry Keller’s Kid by William Kitcher
The stranger sidled up to the bar, ordered a non-descript beer, took a lazy sip, and looked around the bar. He seemed a little rough; his je...
-
Ice pops. Can you believe it? He replaced me with ice pops. Me, and . . . booze. Soon’s he quit drinking, my husband Ricky froze, like...
-
lemonade hair dead and deflated thin like a bleached ghost; mascara rings fat as a star pitcher’s eyeblack; she cracked her broken finger ba... -
Once he spoke the indirect speech of men, as if making bar bets after third drinks that become sincere, become angry, mean. Just his half jo...
No comments:
Post a Comment