shot glass
Issue # 1 March 2010
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Nancy Scott


The wretched house is doomed

to hear its miseries. Conversations
scuttle days searching for an argument.

At dusk, they settle near the hearth, nattering
like biddies - lipsticked mirror

before she slashed her wrists, the boy limp
in a closet, scuff marks on the door.

When he found them, he cursed
the house, torched it before the sirens.

On gusty nights, if you happen by,
you can hear charred rafters groan.