by Robert Scotellaro
During the blackout we listen to the news on my daughter’s clown radio, tuning in disaster with a twist of a bulbous red nose.
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Fearful the food will rot, we empty out the fridge and take it to the lawn which night has erased. Picnic, my daughter says, giddy with play and innocence—the house of straw we exit, the big bad wolf could blow away at any moment.
*
Back inside, our child asleep on my lap. The clown radio on hers, empty now of news and spark. My wife asks if I’m still hungry. I shake my head. But it’s dark. What? she says. I’m good, I tell her, lighting another candle for the night to eat.
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Robert Scotellaro’s poetry and short fiction have appeared in a variety of literary journals and anthologies, including The Laurel Review, Willows Wept Review, mud luscious, Houston Literary Review, Red Rock Review, Clockwise Cat, Fast Forward (A Collection of Flash Fiction) Vols. 2&3, Ghoti, and others. He is the author of four literary chapbooks, the most recent of which is Rhapsody of Fallen Objects (Flutter Press 2010). A new chapbook of poems, The Night Sings A Cappella, is forthcoming by Big Table Publishing (spring 2011). He is the recipient of Zone 3’s Rainmaker Award in Poetry. He currently lives in San Francisco with his wife and daughter. |
WILLOWS WEPT REVIEW 