recovery is an animal

I was sitting on my porch when an old man walked by muttering, “It’s gonna be okay baby.” I felt seen because I thought he was talking to me, but then a cat’s head popped out of his coat. Disappointed, I went into the night for clarity and found a box of Narcan nasal spray inside a Little Free Library. It was propped up against a tattered Lizzie McGuire book. In this neck of the woods, the coyotes worship a hummingbird the size of a gas station. At night, you hear exactly what it takes to preserve the sugar in your life. I know you've seen the fire, too. Don't worry about money slipping out of your pockets. I have lost count of how many times I've hit rock bottom, but it's the closest we can get to the dead telling us what not to do. Be afraid when they say nothing at all.

Justin Karcher (Twitter: @justin_karcher, Bluesky: @justinkarcher.bsky.social; Instagram: justinkarcher) is a Best of the Net- and Pushcart-nominated poet and playwright from Buffalo. He is the author of several books, including Tailgating at the Gates of Hell (Ghost City Press, 2015). Recent playwriting credits include The Birth of Santa (American Repertory Theater of WNY) and “The Buffalo Bills Need Our Help” (Alleyway Theatre). https://www.justinkarcherauthor.com