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

Edward Ferri, Jr.


Arson, Stoning, Gunshot, Poison

These were the fears of
death that I took to bed
during the unspoken years
when I sometimes fled
to shiver in the hay shed

When Mom got so vicious
blind spitting drunk that
I really did believe she
was going to kill me
or just maybe
kill us all

That nuclear holocaust they
fretted about at grammar school
never did bother me as I tried
to sleep with skittering critters
on a busted bail of straw