what it means to be half empty

[TW: Alchoholism]

feet mark feet

a count to the next number

a hole in a whole

a ball in a hole

on a

green green golf course

a sahara where the day drains

minutes out of a plastic water bottle

to be scored backwards

with a graphite strike

and a cheered echo to the meadow, off

a handheld half-empt’ glass of

red red chardonnay

that left a

hole in mum’s Walmart denim pocket

then in her torn up leather wallet

then in her burnt, beaten, barely-beatin’ heart

her chest looked like her wedding ring, then

under a

blue blue sky

i noticed, the wince of tequila and vodka and

beer and wine- always a red, and yet

whatever dad could get his hands on

whatever dad called a cold cold drink

whatever dad needed when he’d sink, sinking

a birdie on hole one-eight and after

shouting one straight through mum’s chest

it made a whistle

a finger ‘round the rim of the same red glass

a yelp, a begging to be whole,

and filled and overflowed,

a return to drowning, his thirst,

teardrops, condensation, ulcers,

of a searing on the inside.

Noel Herbert is a 1st Year OCADU Creative Writing major, whose work focuses on interpersonal relationships in the context of a multitude of themes (some notables: family, gender, mental illness, digital futures), exploring the way our inner and outer dialogues exist in and out of these relationships. They are conversational, focused on dialogical forms; they hope their voice is familiar, to share in these experiences and emotions authentically.