No Sign

Out in the woods behind the lake house. Morning. Cold gloom clouds and sleet. Lake’s frozen, but in one spot it’s all sloppy, like somebody threw a tantrum on it just when it was getting ready to turn smooth and glassy.

Aaron’s shivering from whisky and no sleep.

And no sign of Eddie.

Eddie all depressed again. Eddie saying, “I need to talk to you, bro. I got nobody to tell something to.”

Who wants to hear it, Eddie’s latest tragedy?

So where the hell is he?

That one sloppy spot, like some animal went crazy there, then slipped under.

Steven Ostrowski wrote lots of poems and stories including, very recently, some very short things in Literary Orphans, Prose-Poem Project, Sleet, and Citron Review.

Photo Credit: Sean

One Response to “No Sign”

  1. mike r. james says:

    i like it.

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