In Dallas

Alex Mattingly


When my grandma died

We used a hairdryer to blow her ashes

From the window of our hotel room

In Dallas.

We used them to seed the clouds,

Turning them gray, turning them black,

Which was about how we felt.

We listened to the thunder gather

While our glasses clinked

Against a tall bottle of whiskey.

We held them up as it began to rain,

Tiny droplets of water

That had condensed around flecks of dried, dead granny.

No one shivered as she touched our faces,

No one covered their drinks to keep her out.

We just stood, and listened, and drank

Beneath the dark Texas sky.


Alex Mattingly lives in Avon, Indiana.  His work has previously appeared in 63 Channels, The Flying Island, ScribeSpirit, Artisan, Flashing in the Gutters and Genesis.