The Party
By Steve Denehan
I stand in the corner
drink in hand
a prop really
something to swirl
something to look at
I look up, for a cursed half second
and catch eyes with someone
they smile
knowingly
I return that knowing smile
while wondering how heavy
a small handgun would feel in my hand
while dreaming of shooting each one
of their gleaming, white teeth
right out of their head
then that familiar bolt of reality strikes
I remember that I do not own a gun
have never even held one
that I, that no one, would be an accurate enough shot
that inevitably, the new carpet
would be ruined
Steve Denehan lives in Kildare, Ireland with his wife Eimear and daughter Robin. Recent publication credits include Better Than Starbucks, Fowl Feathered Review, The Blue Nib, The Opiate, The Hungry Chimera, Poetry Quarterly, Evening Street Review, The Folded Word, Ink In Thirds, Crack The Spine, The Cape Rock, Visions International and Third Wednesday. He has been nominated for The Pushcart Prize and his chapbook, "Of Thunder, Pearls and Birdsong" is available from Fowlpox Press