by Chris McCreary
Bad happened. Antacids
& his ashtray had its filter. Largesse,
yes, but you pressed, didn't get the hint
when tirades gave way. Eviction’s
frictionless once patriarchs non grata
you : they'll distend on generosity’s
mothballs then retire to recliners
amid memory’s vitrines.
______
Chris McCreary's latest book of poems, awry, was published by White Stag in 2024. He lives in Philadelphia.
[GO HOME.]