I Do Not Have an Alcohol Problem


The big hand of time travels
in a circle, your mother’s
voice coming back to you:
Messa a fuoco, Rudolph.
Don’t follow your father through
the broken window.
Strange how the paths of escape
evaporate in the sudden
heat, how the lies run in
rivers down your face.

About the Poem

The spectacle of Rudy Giuliani getting tangled up in bad choices and legal peril makes an observer wonder how someone once called “America’s Mayor” could fall so far.

About the Author

William Ross is a Canadian writer and visual artist living in Toronto. His poems have appeared in Rattle, Bluepepper, Humana Obscura, New Note Poetry, Cathexis Northwest Press, Topical Poetry, *82 Review, and Alluvium. Recent work is forthcoming in Heavy Feather Review and The New Quarterly.

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