Brenton Booth

GLOOMY WEDNESDAY

It has been raining hard
for weeks and I just
got paid a few hours ago
and am already broke.
Winter just a few days away.
I pour a tall glass of tap
water. Turning the page
on the van Gogh calendar I
bought half-price last
December during the
Christmas sales, from April
over to May. An impossibly
bright landscape of the
glorious hills of Saint-Rémy
in France. Painted by a
lonely man once said to be
crazy. Something I have
been accused of far too many
times in my life. I swiftly
replace the water with whiskey.
Sitting by the large picture
window in my writing room
peering at the damp, miserable
sky. Thinking about my brother,
Vincent van Gogh. That
beautiful, unwanted freak. Still
shining after all these years.

A WILD ONE

Mary was thirty years
older than me when
I got a job in my mid-
twenties working
with her as a tour
guide at the Sydney
Opera House.
Moving with a heavy
limp from a near
fatal motorcycle
accident she had back
in her twenties. Living
as far from other
people as she could,
with her much loved
German Shepherd.
& Dogs are so much
better than people!
They never let you
down, & she’d frequently
say in a solemn tone.
Mary’s final wish
was a large bronze
hand with a raised
middle finger on
her modest grave.
Rest in peace, Mary.
Your motorcycle
finally awaits.

Brenton Booth lives in Sydney, Australia. Writing of his has appeared in New York Quarterly, Midwest Quarterly, North Dakota Quarterly, Chiron Review, Gargoyle, Main Street Rag, Rye Whiskey Review, Misfit Magazine, and Big Hammer. He has two collections available from Epic Rites Press.