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Easter Sunday
William Teets

Easter Sunday and no one has called
No chocolate treats or rainbow beans
In my hollow stone-covered tomb
Spring flowers wilt from fetid stench

I am sober now, I’ve stopped drinking
How long? Long enough
Not drinking is hard
Drinking is harder

A tarnished cross nailed on a stained white wall
A single sunbeam refuses to reflect
I hopelessly hope for angels and salvation
Nothing happens I hear no hallowed horn

I am sober now, I’ve stopped drinking
How long? Long enough
Not drinking is hard
Drinking is harder

A bearded man is in my mirror
It is me, no, not Him
I pour a triple double neat
I am resurrected I am damned

—
William Teets is a writer born in Peekskill, New York, who has recently relocated to Waterford, Michigan. He immensely misses New York pizza, the Hudson River, and his beloved Mets.

Mr. Teet’s works have been accepted in Chronogram, Drunk Moneys, Ariel Chart, The Deadly Writers Patrol, Impspired, Cajun Mutt Press, Literary Yard, Art and Life, as well as in numerous anthologies.

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The Wild God Stirs by Graham Murtaugh

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