Arsenic Lobster
poetry journal |
Issue Nineteen Spring 2009 |
The Dead Town Kristine Ong Muslim The elders had painted mouths and doll eyes. The children would not wash their hands. The dogs had lost their tails. The alley cats were bigger than most of the men in town. All the walls, the roads, the hedges were dressed in light. The drunk swaggered home each night. Television static crackled in the house of the blind. Night lamps were turned on. Then off. |
About Kristine Ong Muslim |