The Meadow Annual Literary Arts Journal 2018

Saint Anthony, Saint Anthony Corey Oglesby a few morning kisses from the two fingers left in the deep auburn sex of the whiskey bottle and I’m a knocked-over plastic ficus I’m the pipework moaning behind a guidance counselor’s poster of a “determined” Irish river if I concentrate I can feel the drop and knock of three fresh D batteries in my mind’s flashlight when the Sheriff on duty there learns I’ve gone missing again tell him don’t sweat it no need to waste anyone’s tax dollars promise I’m fine promise tonight I’ll suck-up all the dead spiders peppering the carpet like little black car wrecks I’ll crush cans do the dishes write YOU KNOW BETTER on the five remaining cigarettes and I agree to guard the trash from raccoons but in the morning can someone let me back in? I lost my keys in the ocean when I threw them at a bi-plane strafing the boardwalk trailing a long blank banner 18 The Meadow