Wednesday, June 23, 2010


by Wesley Francis

my stepfather is
drunk on the porch
at three in the afternoon,
his pet rat resting
on his palm

he prods her,
says she has tumors
on her kidneys
as he totters on
unsteady feet

he whispers
his mouth against
the flur of her ear
"don't worry
it will take a long time
to kill you"

it doesn't occur to me
until much later
that he was talking
about himself

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