Issue #54


Authors

(Almost) Post-Pandemic

Content Warning: Mention of sex, alcoholism, breakups

My feet have flattened from

20 months of rarely wearing shoes

When I go back to the office

will my cells reconfigure to 

the shape of confinement

Will yours

be freed up

for three beer lunches

and (un)happy hours

Will we argue again about 

whether a brewery is a bar

Will you dial up familiar

euphemisms for I’m drinking again:

Out of range

On a call

No service

Battery dead

Ringer off

You are breaking up

I think we disconnected

I can’t hear you

This is not a love story


It’s not a fairy tale

I could say there is no happy ending

but I don’t know yet

This is not girl meets girl

There is no hero

No princess

No knight

There is armor, though

And swords for words

There is shame and 

kissing

Lots of kissing

And sex for days

And not for days

There is no rainbow-themed

wedding cake

No handwritten vows

There is no clean time

No 24-hour chip

No sober anniversary

There is fragile

And how could you do this to me?

There is personal space the size of a gymnasium

where high school basketball is played

There is love

And the opposite of love

And I can’t do this anymore

There is this time will be different

And alphabet soup, round-robin, roll the dice

self-help 

AA/NA/ACOA/Al-anon

say it the same -

There is nothing you can do to make her stop drinking


A Letter to My Mother

The Fourth Floor