Over
I was in a nasty mood
all morning.
Three days drunk
and really feeling the harm
when I said it.
The wallpaper curled away in disgust.
Strips of fly paper dangling from the hairy insect gallows.
There was nothing I could have said
to fix it.
Pressing the bottle against my lips,
I surrendered.
Black Houdini
Talking to my neighbour
off on disability
a few days back,
I told him I lived in Kingston
and a smile came over his face
as he told me he knew a few guys
serving time in the Kingston Pen,
this one crazy African fella they called “Black Houdini”
because his entire left arm under the elbow
was without feeling, so that he could
slide the cuffs right off and started
wailing on the guards
who quickly figured out
that you had to cuff him above
the elbow or you were in
for a real surprise.
Bio: Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and mounds of snow. His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly, The Asylum Floor, Horror Sleaze Trash, Red Fez, and The Oklahoma Review. He enjoys listening to the blues and cruising down the TransCanada in his big blacked out truck.
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