My True Home



My True Home




I recall when she lay next

to me, resting her head on my shoulder; we were

both lost in flaming meadows, chasing the

dragons soaring above our heads.


like children we ran across the tall grass, escaping fires and kindling new ones.

laughing, kissing, embracing…it was home in her arms.


she held me tight when I’d drunk two-fifths of rotgut and felt suicidal.

she’d hold my hand as we trudged through dark alleys and well tequila

had gotten me homicidal.


home was in her arms; whether we were

in a shooting gallery, on a dirty blue couch, or inside a dank dive,


looking into her eyes meant staring into an effulgent future, encountering

the home we could have built by a lake, swimming with infernal ghoul whales.


I recall the tears and the dread when the pregnancy test came positive.

how we questioned everything; the spike, the bottles, the dives, the alleys.


it was a no-brainer but we wanted to try. in her arms it was home,

and a child would’ve toppled the world upside down.


I recall when

she held me tight as I toyed with the shotgun and the idea of going out

like past heavyweights. she said no and I believed her.


she’s gone; I’ve been without her embrace for eight dark years,

effectively homeless. a rambling man, marooned on a fucking island and there

are no sharks to offer a ride to Hell; only occasionally a stray bottle of Wild Turkey crosses the tall barriers, carrying a message from the other side.



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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