Death in the Morning

by Maggie Sawkins

For the best part of the morning
I watched as he crouched
by a crack in the wall.

I turned my head
he appeared by my side —
a shoestring tail dangling
from his mouth.

Drop it! Drop it! I shouted
but he scuttled down the hall.

I poured another gin
swirled its bitterness between my teeth,
around my tongue —
resisted the urge to swallow.


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