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

Marc Darnell

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Driving By A Place I Used To Live 1

It looks so small, but held a happy seven,
at least I thought we were, I don't remember
sadness, no tragedy or pain, not even
illness. I certainly don't recall the sliver

within my throbbing foot— just the silver
dollar-size puddle of blood on looking
at the sole that made me scream and shiver
surely— I just don't remember. Looking

back, we had good parents— we weren't poor,
and far from rich, but we were never cold
or hungry. That house— it was a simple door
to heaven, with quiet parents who never grew old—

a father who worked nights so we could eat,
a mother who squeezed slivers from our feet.