Woken by it, I tried explaining to her that sometimes in order
to make a noise downstairs that late you had to be alive –
you had to be breathing to open a bottle of rioja to let it
breathe too, and a corkscrew caught on the edge of this
porcelain pot will make a momentary din at around midnight.
What I didn’t mention were the many silent disasters over
the years. Whilst she slept through all of these, there was
that time I managed to divert the bear – it had intruded
as far as the living room – back out to the garden without
a smash or a growl, though it then mauled dead our dog, and
the following day I ended up announcing him missing, joining
in the despair and tears. I almost felt just now like confessing
but who would believe someone starting to drink at that time
of night – using a corkscrew on a metal cap, almost quietly?
# # #
Mike Ferguson’s most recent poetry collection is ‘Precarious Real’ [Maquette Press, 2106]. A retired English teacher, he taught creative writing to students for 30 years and co-authored the education text ‘Writing Workshops’ [Cambridge University Press, 2015].
Joy Mahar is an emergent writer living on the outskirts of Detroit. Her work has…
They received a much needed shower this morning: bare branches of trees, Fall's fallen crushed leaves,…
“Persephone is having sex in hell.” –“Persephone the Wanderer,” Louise Glück This isn’t hell, but…
“Again.” “Again.” “Again.” “Once more.” Her son slid down the wall onto the hallway floor.…
He told my Ma I was too young to know what a tumor felt like.…
“Don’t leave the backyard, Jodi!” “Okay, Mommy, I won’t!” That last conversation echoed in Sarah’s…
This website uses cookies.