- Sour Liver Vodka
Remember the day you put pierogi in the suitcasein Poland; you flewacross the continent
Later, together we swam up Market Street drowned St Andrews redin afternoonyou bought green-skinned leeks, long and thick like children's armswhite-spooned sour creambutter from the barrelŻołądkowa from the man just off the squareall sad blue eyes,Irish, and homesick? [End Page 21]
You sizzled them in a borrowed frying panwe toasted gold wódka and golden dumplingsour smiles filling cold like water into paper cupsstomachs heavy, heavy hooks holding us fastto that strange Scottish town.
Afterward, walking out to West Sands to seethe gravel-voiced seals, grey as the breakersand the sheep on the hills so far away, enough to bejust flecks of lint on the rolled over landthe arched backs of tellurian beaststhat still slumber, slumber and sleep? [End Page 22]
Margaret O'Brien is a senior at Alma College, Alma, MI, where she majors in English Literature and minors in Writing. Prior to transferring to Alma in 2009, she studied English Literature and Medieval History at the University of St Andrews in Scotland. After graduating from Alma, Margaret plans to pursue an MFA and Ph.D. in English Literature and Creative Writing.