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It's you and me won't be unhappy
The mail brought my contributor's copy of Not One of Us #77, containing my poem "Scarcity Economics." It is the one with the ghosts and the shopping cart and the railway bridge near our house. The rest of the issue works its variations on sisters and brothers in stories and poems by Patricia Russo, Sarah McGill, Marissa Lingen, David Kopaska-Merkel, and more. Check it out, submit, subscribe.
I have brought Autolycus home from the hospital where he spent the last three nights. It is hospice. He smells dreadfully of vet. It could be no time at all. But just now he was chattering at a sparrow in the yew tree and right now he is purring, touching my face with his eight-clawed flower of a paw for affection. He made it home.
I have brought Autolycus home from the hospital where he spent the last three nights. It is hospice. He smells dreadfully of vet. It could be no time at all. But just now he was chattering at a sparrow in the yew tree and right now he is purring, touching my face with his eight-clawed flower of a paw for affection. He made it home.
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Thank you. I drove with one hand on the wheel and the other through the mesh of his carrier, his head pressed against my fingers the entire time. I kept telling him, I got you. He sunlamps by my computer as I type.
*hugs*