I worshipped them,
my new deities;
Mr. Jack Daniels,
Uncle Smirnoff,
made an altar
with empty shot glasses,
gave money
to the church of Wine and Spirits,
and picked up Chardonnay,
cradling it like a rosary for hours.

In group therapy,
they asked my religion.
I said,
“Alcoholism,” and smiled.

They didn’t find it amusing.

I should have said Christianity
but refused to betray my gods.Tamara Oakman won the Judith Stark Prize in poetry, fiction, creative non-fiction, and playwriting. She has been published in The Literary Garland, Limited Editions, Hyphen, and The Crucible. She won Judith Stark Prize in the categories of poetry, short creative non-fiction, short fiction, and playwriting.

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