The Neighbor’s Dog
written by: Korliss Sewer
Once he told me there was no day beyond Tuesday, so I stopped looking. That he had found God with a swig of whisky. The last drop of whisky in his goblet of scripture.
We drank from a dead man’s flask and savored every sticky bead. We argued about who would die first. Like whoever croaks would get a prize or some shit like that.
It was a rough night. First, I grabbed my drink. Then, I grabbed the bottle. He was sure to upend our table, spilling my courage into the dirt.
We poured slowly into our oblivion and heard cicadas sing with the falling rains.
I'm a poet from the Pacific Northwest who sees the world through rose-colored bifocals.
Latest posts by Korliss Sewer (see all)
- The Neighbor’s Dog - November 17, 2021
- The Earthling - September 17, 2018
- The Solitude of the Hours (Where Dust Swirled At Her Feet) - August 28, 2018