Dance For Dr. Death

We may have danced for our own Dr. Death 

before we binged another on TV.

How many nights barely conscious he left 

before performing neurosurgery —

we couldn’t even say.  We only worked 

three nights a week and it happened with 

regularity — passing out while we twerked. 

Bouncers putting him in taxis, lifted

from his chair.  New sports car when he comes back,

strip club laissez-fair.  And who are we 

to judge if he spends his night blacked 

out in a bar?  We just take this money 

and slumber hungover on champagne

while he operates on someone in pain. 


Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Rhysling nominated sonneteer and a Best of the Net 2020 finalist.  Her sonnets have stalked journals like Glass, Yes, Five:2:One, Luna Luna and more. She is the author of 23 books of poetry including Candy Cigarette Womanchild Noir (Hedgehog Poetry Press) and Atheist Barbie (Maverick Duck Press). She is the founder of Pink Plastic House a tiny journal and co-founder of Performance Anxiety, an online poetry reading series. Follow her on Twitter:  (@lolaandjolie) and her website kristingarth.com

Categories: Poetry

Daily Drunk

Shawn Berman runs The Daily Drunk. You can follow him on Twitter @Sbb_writer.

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