Sunsets Like a God Damn Painting

Abstract

Sunsets Like a God Damn Painting Andrew Wittstadt (bio) You and Mary liked to watch the sun set from the shorewhere the water tended to edge at the dock.Mary rocked her chair to un-rhythmic lake laps. It creaked awful and made you anxiousas the chair was shoved back on two legs.A balancing act of self-courage and confidence.Mary always had more balls than you,more of a fuck-you-risk-taking side to her. You didn't let on that her rocking the chair backmade you nervous and worried, as you imaginedthe legs snapping, causing a broken neckand the images of spinal cord to stone paversreoccurred as you stared at her. (The slight ricochet of a body when it hits ground.A small bob as the limbs drift upward from impactbefore they settle against the concrete.Usually calling for someone to run overand check to make sure the body is breathingfrom the places it's supposed to.) Mary saw you staring at her and said, "what?"as if you wanted something from herand didn't hear what you mumbled. "Nothing," you said. [End Page 156] Andrew Wittstadt andrew wittstadt was born and raised outside Baltimore, Maryland. His poems and writings have appeared in Thin Air, Bending Genres, Foothill, The Nevada Independent, and The New Limestone Review, among others. He co-hosts Heavy Bored, a literary podcast available on all platforms, and currently lives and teaches in Las Vegas. Copyright © 2023 University of North Dakota