Just this morning I heard the wind whisper
the names of the dead as I walked to
the corner for a lotto ticket and
a pack of smokes my pockets
stuffed with quarters so
many quarters they
sp i l l e
d
into the gutter
and as I bent
to scoop
them
up
my name too
I heard
MICHELLE MUENZLER writes fiction both dark and strange to counterbalance the sweetness of her baking. Her short fiction and poetry can be read in numerous magazines, and she takes immense joy in crinkling words like little foil puppets. Check out michellemuenzler.com for links to the rest of her work.