Death in the Morning
by Maggie Sawkins
For the best part of the morning
I watched as he crouched
by a crack in the wall.
I turned my head
he appeared by my side —
a shoestring tail dangling
from his mouth.
Drop it! Drop it! I shouted
but he scuttled down the hall.
I poured another gin
swirled its bitterness between my teeth,
around my tongue —
resisted the urge to swallow.
