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

Ron Riekki

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for Lisa Fay Coutley

As the poem goes, so does the poet.
I'm not black. I'm not white. I'm Greek.
I keep wondering if I'm Jewish.
Here is a throat. Here is a bone.
Even the gods can be killed
in ways that would make medics cringe.
I'm sorry you think I'm crazy.
I was just trying hard to make poetry
be heard. It's hard, this desk,
this night, this time. I'm thinking
of becoming a pair of ballet slippers.
I feel, then, that maybe I could slip
into a suicide note and end it with
something hopeful where the child
would live, would lick the wind,
the wick, the lack of everything, gone.