r i g h t  h a n d  p o i n t i n g

short fiction  short poetry  short commentary  short..uh..art

 

 

     
  The Boarder

 Michael Pickard
 

 

 

The Boarder

—Jackson, Mississippi

Porcupine eggs and cans of beer lay scattered
on the ground or hung attached by hooks
from the chair's armrest, sweating in the heat.
That's where I found Paul, peering outward
from the mound of dirt he piled years before,
the railway car I mounted in the yard
looming over his shoulder like an officer.
"Water's out," he coughed as I approached.
"The gas's been cut." I went around and looked.
"I done called and cussed the company out. . . ."
The knot on his throat was large, a baby's fist.
I sat up tonight, hearing him bang about,
scrounging the fridge for food, and thought
how I once uncovered in a pile of papers
in a corner of the living room we shared
a Polaroid of Paul, flat on his stomach,
his arms around a dog he said had died
of worms a few months back.--Now, only
the thump of his feet in the foyer, and the door
rocking on its hinges, letting in mosquitoes.
 

 

 

 

 

Table of Contents

Michael Pickard received his B.A. from Millsaps College in Jackson, Mississippi.  He currently lives in Boston and is enrolled at Boston University

 

 

r i g h t  h a n d  p o i n t i n g 

 

All rights reserved. All poems, fiction, articles, essays, and artwork are the property of the authors and artists within, and as such, are protected by applicable U.S. and international copyright law. Copying or reprinting in any form is prohibited without the expressed permission of the author or artist.