portion of the artwork for Rusty Barnes' poetry

Gin-Soaked Boy
Rusty Barnes

Terrible thoughts wrack my head,
like on a gin bender with a dash of bitters

the way you hate me from across
the room is a mindcrime I can’t

recover from. Where on the list
of things that come in a marriage

is this? What things can I take back,
the peppermint-breathed whispers

as I tease your ear or the headlong
rush of anger I felt last night that

I can’t avoid today? It’s my way
of saying sorry this poem and its torn

bed of virtue the flipside of lust
the things that make me say the unsay-

able the trip of my own tongue as
I confess my sins and beg for the

giveness you cannot provide.


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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 53 | Spring/Summer 2019