Death, But You Get Used to It

It’s blank and oblong.
Your spray-on tan fades rapidly.
You’re thirsty as a Giraffe—all the time.
The food is terrible, especially the meat.
The funny thing is, you call your dog, and he still comes.
For the first time, you can’t wait for your mother-in-law to join you.

Brad Rose was born and raised in southern California, and lives in Boston. Brad’s poetry and fiction have appeared in: The Baltimore Review, Off the Coast, Third Wednesday, The Potomac, San Pedro River Review, Santa Fe Literary Review, Barely South Review, Right Hand Pointing, Sleet, Boston Literary Magazine, Monkeybicycle, Camroc Press Review, Short, Fast, and Deadly, and other publications. Links to his poetry and fiction can be found at: http://bradrosepoetry.blogspot.com. His chapbook of miniature fiction, Coyotes Circle the Party Store, can be read at https://sites.google.com/site/bradroserhpchapbook. Audio recordings of a selection of Brad’s published poetry can be heard here: https://soundcloud.com/bradrose1.

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