APHORISM by Dylan Weir

Aphorism

APHORISM
by Dylan Weir

There but for the grace of
a gallon of vodka go I:
barleycorn barrel
rolling river roulette.
A hailstorm hitting the muzzles
of voiceless mothers watching
sons disappear. A cloud
of quiver hovering over
every bottle in the aisle
that follows me
to the checkout
counter cliff.


Dylan-WeirDylan Weir is a Chicago poet completing his M.A. in English at DePaul University. A semifinalist for the 2014 Gwendolyn Brooks Open Mic Award, his poetry appears in After Hours, Mobius, H_NMG_N, Literary Orphans, The Legendary, Chicago Literati, Red Paint Hill, and others. Dylan’s a poetry reader for Gigantic Sequins, and on the staff of Anthropoid.

Image credit: Magda on Flickr

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