Sestina

There in the kitchen, my father,

His mouth overfilling with pills,

Says to me “Paulie, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry, I know what I’ve done.”

And I say “Now you’ve ruined Christmas”

And turn from the shame of his tears. Continue reading “Sestina”

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The Forest

You feel safe as you traipse alone, drunkenly, from the road into the first fair branches of the forest. Only the moon, rapier silver, lights your way, as you wend through trees to that familiar clearing. At peace in this now-still scene of teenage fumblings, you sweep cigarette butts to the edge with your boots. You build a small fire, set it burning with your second-last match, and hunker down, pulling jacket and blanket round you into oblivion. Continue reading “The Forest”