My True Home
I recall when she lay next
to me, resting her head on my
shoulder; we were
both lost in flaming meadows,
chasing the
dragons soaring above our
heads.
like children we ran across
the tall grass, escaping fires and kindling new ones.
laughing, kissing,
embracing…it was home in her arms.
she held me tight when I’d
drunk two-fifths of rotgut and felt suicidal.
she’d hold my hand as we
trudged through dark alleys and well tequila
had gotten me homicidal.
home was in her arms; whether
we were
in a shooting gallery, on a
dirty blue couch, or inside a dank dive,
looking into her eyes meant
staring into an effulgent future, encountering
the home we could have built
by a lake, swimming with infernal ghoul whales.
I recall the tears and the
dread when the pregnancy test came positive.
how we questioned everything;
the spike, the bottles, the dives, the alleys.
it was a no-brainer but we
wanted to try. in her arms it was home,
and a child would’ve toppled
the world upside down.
I recall when
she held me tight as I toyed
with the shotgun and the idea of going out
like past heavyweights. she
said no and I believed her.
she’s gone; I’ve been without
her embrace for eight dark years,
effectively homeless. a
rambling man, marooned on a fucking island and there
are no sharks to offer a ride
to Hell; only occasionally a stray bottle of Wild Turkey crosses the tall barriers,
carrying a message from the other side.
George Gad Economou
Bio: Currently residing in Greece, George Gad Economou has a Master’s degree in Philosophy of Science and is the author of Letters to S. (Storylandia), Bourbon Bottles and Broken Beds (Adelaide Books), and Of the Riverside (Anxiety Press). His words have also appeared, amongst other places, in Spillwords Press, Ariel Chart, Cajun Mutt Press, Fixator Press, Outcast Press, The Piker Press, The Edge of Humanity Magazine, The Rye Whiskey Review, and Modern Drunkard Magazine.