By Bob Carr

A top shelf bourbon
a fused stack of spine
the Vicodin sticks
in my throat going down
on my back I listen

for that sparkler sizzle
a bloom at the center
of my chest lit from inside
I walk the room for seconds
thirds a sticking swallow

of gold chrysanthemum
as I settle in a boom
the bedsheets float
sleep through echos
of a throbbing hangnail

Bob Carr is the author of Amaranth, published by Indolent Books. By day he is a reluctant bureaucrat with the Massachusetts Department of Public Health where he manages infectious disease response.