A Night of Illness


A Night of Illness



sitting here, dead of the night;

nose running, violent coughs thundering the injured

from smoking lungs; liver withers away for there’s

no bourbon to take the pain away.


I’ve known sickness but this is different. there’s no

cure, no medicine. soul’s perishing,


as I try to bet my life on wild gooses.

when I lay down at night, I think of the lethal flu.


could I be so lucky? no way. I’m fine,

just a cold; I’ve survived far worse with far fewer means.


after all, survival of the fittest is all about making it

without help.


in this world and day, the above makes no sense.


we have doctors, medicine, don’t have to die till you’re 90,

soulless, squirming away from Death’s grip.


staring at the stars, hoping for a goddamn bourbon to cure me

like it did back when.


when Emily was lost. when I was sick, near death, and only

bourbon kept me alive, no drugs, no pharmaceuticals.

just a daily bottle to kill the germs, the viruses, all that.


nothing would survive in my body, not even me.

I cough again, light another cigarette.


I’ve nothing but the wild goose chirping away,

few months to either make it


or disappear into new jungles, never to reappear.



George Gad Economou


 Bio: Currently residing in Greece, George Gad Economou has a Master’s degree in Philosophy of Science and is the author of Letters to S. (Storylandia), Bourbon Bottles and Broken Beds (Adelaide Books), and Of the Riverside (Anxiety Press). His words have also appeared, amongst other places, in Spillwords Press, Ariel Chart, Cajun Mutt Press, Fixator Press, Outcast Press, The Piker Press, The Edge of Humanity Magazine, The Rye Whiskey Review, and Modern Drunkard Magazine. 

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