shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Toni Gardner

Page 1 | 2 | 3


Crushing incarnadine, weighty, rushing, flooding and flowing in rivulets down my thighs; nestling in the corners of my father's yellowed sports socks, tainted water spiraling down the drain to parts unknown – guts hollow; fist pushed through to my spine where she used to be before sharp cries bounced off sterile walls, before they laid her pink wet alien life on my concave belly, before they whisked her away and hung the anonymous words "baby girl" on a strange basinet, before I collapsed weak-kneed and wailing, pummeled by scalding water and the reality that in the morning I would drive away with her in the rear view mirror; objects so much smaller than they appeared.