Ray Succre



"Extermination Gold" By Ray Succre What sat in that living room chair was like his furious swirl of violets. �You care. Don�t say you don�t.� His concealing face in her pretend was pocked behind a gauze of dark smoke from the burning house, her truer suspicion. He tosses here a golden ring. �Saved up for it for almost a year.� Her pretend was blooming into actuality� �It�s our disengagement ring.� and crushed as a blossom. �Jesus, that�s sick.� �It�s official. And no, I don�t care.� The gold curled her fingers back. They shriveled, ashed, crumbled. �I�ll be out Monday morning.� The fire in the house climbed her hair and seeped in. �Monday.� �Monday.� Then his flowers stood up and breezed into the kitchen.

	Ray Succre has been writing for twelve years and has begun publishing his poetry while trying to broaden himself as a poet and parent. He is now beginning to send his work out at a more social level. He currently lives on the southern Oregon coast with his wife, Maisy, and baby boy, Painter. He has been published in Aesthetica, Poetry Salzburg Review, and Poetry Nottingham, as well as in many others both in the U.S. and abroad. Visit his website

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