One afternoon, I slept, woke, wept, remembered how I once wilted into Walter’s shoulder, soldered by some slow sonata playing on the stereo, the scratchy record revolving, repeating like past mistakes, especially that one chord that corded us, courted us, quartered us. Later, after Sammy’s suicide, Walter waned and wandered, welded and wedded only to himself, wanting to be alone listening to the vinyl’s silent confessions, sipping his single malt Macallan on rocks, smoking his Pall Malls in his overalls, always with his albums in his favorite chair, his eyes closed as the light emptied from the sky like a flat tire, darkness deepening like an oil fire, his scotch sucked dry, the room dusted, dazed with a smoke haze, the needle shifting into songless ruts, hiccupping static sighs.

 

 

Logan Chace received an M.F.A. in Creative Writing (Poetry) from Hollins University, and he currently teaches English and Creative Writing to high school students in Northeastern Pennsylvania. Previous publications include Versal Magazine, The Meadow, Plain Spoke, THAT Literary Review, The Bookends Review, Buddy, Brushfire, Inlandia, Flying Island, and Hive Avenue. His debut full-length collection of poems, After a Night of Drowning, was published by Kelsay Books in 2022.