Glass Poetry Press

Volume One Issue One

Jeff Crouch


in the living room the dead people take up space
with name tags and party favors their bodies bristle
with cellophane and tape caught in an acrid swirl

sacrifice with atrophied hands jerk spinal columns
until ashtrays membrane pregnancy test birthing
now the couch is vacant and people gossip in water

gowns against the refrigerator cucumber sliced cheese
smiles of smoke though foreign never stop coughing
medicine adjusting its ice front window struck by car

horn her dial tone but lying something fierce and next
honking for his wife hidden in a closet and very scared
pulls around back where the womb nears a roan already

saddled in housecoat the car swipes a puddle splashing
wanted to stay at her sister's for wildly swerving husband
tragically wrong remembers waiting very little for air-

conditioned heat death plush with a thimble full of
lingerie the slick safety of her sister's guest bed but
disturbing a baby shower with a shotgun this time

the sheriff gets a call from his niece before horse panic
beer and whiskey burp of a .38 the brother-in-law
shooting her husband from his pick-up the horse blood

whinnying uncontrollably sister's sister husband bullet
hole in gun hand cursing his car roaring into the barn
sister zombies inside the glow the thermostat swelling