shot glass
title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare


Kelly Scarff


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Brush Hog

The ache she carries is in everything:
the long line of days she has yet to plow,

her nightly stumble through old photos,
the empty wine bottles at her elbows.

You remember when he died, her youngest son,
the chubby one with the bowl cut. You do not ask,

but you want to: When he was being pulled under
that flat mouth of steel, did he try to fight it off

or did he lie still, in shock by how much
the heart can withstand before it is consumed?