Twelve Twenty-Seven Eighteen

Updated: Jan 5, 2019

The bottle sat on the bar, more than half empty.

Half empty wasn’t a perspective,

there was unquestionably less liquid

past the halfway mark,

which I eyeballed

as being the bottom of the letter “Y”

in the cursive script that read “Brandy.”

The bottle was new, last night

You’re supposed to put Egg Nog in Brandy

Actually you’re supposed to put Brandy in Egg Nog

But Egg Nog is bad for you

Brandy‘s not even my drink I was just feeling festive because I‘d spent Christmas alone in a brand new town with a brand new broken heart.

I kept reaching for it,

then smacking my hand away

like it was misbehaving

I lost count of how many times I found myself standing in front of it

Not to mention

the Chardonnay in the fridge---

I kept opening the door,

like a sleepwalker waking up,

with a glass in my hand

and I was just doing chores.


Doing laundry doing dishes

The bottle sat there

emitting a sinister vibration

I had never noticed before

because I had never failed to respond


All work property of Michaela Kuenster 2021