top of page

"Asphyxiation" by Michael Estabrook

  • Dec 24, 2020
  • 1 min read

She insists

she was in the room witnessed

her mother kneel on the floor

stick her head in the oven

after turning on the gas

asphyxiating herself to death.

“I was only three

but remember like it was yesterday.”

Of course it didn’t happen that way.

According to the

obituary article she wasn’t

even in the kitchen or the house

when her mother took her own life.

But I don’t correct her anymore.

She’s 92 now and

for some reason needs to take

this memory to the grave with her.


Michael Estabrook has been publishing his poetry in the small press since the 1980s. He has published over 20 collections, a recent one being The Poet’s Curse, A Miscellany (The Poetry Box, 2019).


Recent Posts

See All
"A Love Story" by Natalie Marino

While on an evening walk, we see two dogs mating in an abandoned lot full of tall grass. Holding your hand in mine I look up at the moon looking like a coin caught between two cypress trees. I wonder

 
 
"Grass Grows Over A Daisy Petal" by Paul Potts

beyond the trees as far as i can see there’s a small duck i’ve been waiting for. i tell the duck my name, who i am. it probably doesn’t remember, but that’s fine. i remind myself that when you find an

 
 
"pit hymnal" by Klara Pokrzywa

Star of this soreness I laugh myself awake, sling deep into the heave. Straight out of dirt road walking and at capacity—this being the back-alley way; the heartbreak; the running away constantly. Int

 
 
bottom of page