Jul/Aug 2002 Poetry Special Feature

Sour Grapes

by Patty Mooney

Art by Bob Dornborg


Sour Grapes

"Let's dispense with the suspense,"
he said, popping the top
on his icy Dos Equis.
He chugged half.
"This?" He flipped
open the wedding album
to a page filled
with smiles, lace and champagne.
Marriage is a tomb.
Tag. You're dead."


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