Deborah Sue George

© Deborah Sue George 2018 All rights reserved

After You
Left Us
For Good

Granny's Windmill

Crows don't covet night birds.

They fucking eat them like caviar,

down the hatch with a swig from the bottle

of Grand Marnier hidden beneath Granny's windmill.

She died from the hiccups, farting potato skins.

No one envied her gluttony.

And no one wanted the bottle of Jungle Gardenia left on her bureau.