WHAT HAPPENED
You run, tossing your
espadrilles into the
dumpster behind
Dante's. Feet
blistered &
black when you get
back to Carl's.
He's high. Crib's
broke. Where's the baby?
Cloud of
smoke trail of
glass someone
smashed a bottle over
someone else's head.
Baby's in the
driveway wailing her
hand landed on a
bee. Somebody
scoop her up
kiss her blistered
feet. Somebody
please. You were
yelling at Carl when the
cops came. Different
day same story. Stack of
green by the door,
what'd you do that
for? Or you're not there
when they handcuff him
—or is it Jim?—
& take away the
baby. A blue
light on in the
hall, a black leather
bag packed, you left
without a call. No
I see you
standing in the
doorway throwing
away trash. Barefoot
& barely breathing.
You've been dead twelve
years. We've still got
a way to go.
This poem originally featured on SOFTBLOW. Cover photograph by Darla Mottram.