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The Hiss Quarterly Vol. 4 ~ Issue 4 Slip Out The Back, Jack. The Anatomy Of Abandonment |
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Kaput Shots sing out pop Pop POP! On a warm September night. Pinging through the neighborhood, Ringing outside of me. I thought my heart was breaking, as I lay here listening to Bessie Smith wailing her own empty bed blues. Seven years I gave that man before he left to give that uptown woman the baby he wouldn’t have with me. Now I cower in this hallway alone, no one to count on but me. But in the end its, nothing scary, young policeman reassures me, It’s just fireworks ma’am, (oh my God he is so pretty!) Call me any time you need, ma’am. (…just hand me the numbers, Baby) Just fireworks. |
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Swan Prince After the wedding, the happily ever after, there was still the youngest brother who was shot before the spell could be broken sticking him with a broken wing in place of his left arm— no one really says much about him. The gossip is he gave up, went back to the birds, figuring it was better to be all avian than human freak. Nowadays he’s living off of Rocky Neck, to avoid tourists mostly. You know those birds mate for life and, well, beaks and feathers never were his thing. (Really, where’s Leda when you need her?) So he contents himself with following old folks holding hands in faded LL Bean windbreakers… as you can imagine, the rest of the flock, they don’t like him, much. |  |
