who comes
home every
day, dives
straight into
a tall amber
bottle, falls
into a stone-
walled well
of silence, a
place where he can tread
the suffocating loneliness.
on the surface, he’s a proud
man. but just beneath his not-
so- thick skin, is a broken soul.
in his courtroom, he’s a tough
but evenheaded jurist, respected
if not particularly well liked. at
home, he doesn’t try to disguise his
bad habits, has no friends, a tattered
family. a part of my despises him,
what he’s done. what he continues
to do. another part pities him and
will always be his little girl, his
devoted, copper- haired daughter.
his unfolding flower. but enough
about daddy, who most definitely
has plenty of secrets. secrets mom
should want to know about. secrets
i should tell, but instead tuck away.
because if i tell on him, i’d have to...
tell on me.

Staying still
I try to drain
Every last
Little drop.
Tilting back, I
Grip the neck but
Don't break it, God forbid
I'm in no shape to clean up a mess
Though I'm an expert at making them,
I tell you what, I hate the television, all
those shiny happy people like in that
song I don't know the words to, but it's
obviously true, watching these shiny
happy lives with all of these beautiful
people who are probably ugly on the
inside, just like me, going home to sit
in their expensive new recliners and
grip the neck but don't break it, don't
make a mess that you can't clean up
drain every last drop even if you don't
really want it, 'cause it used to make
you feel much better, and now it's just
routine, like brushing your teeth and
trying to sleep and telling old friends
that you're fine, fine, just tired, so very
tired and I'm trying to stare through the
television to see these stupid phonies at
home in their own chairs, drinking from
a bottle like this one as if it might save
their sorry lives, like I'm trying to do
right now, tilting it back for just one
more drop, ****** there is no more
and I'm not done drinking but the neck
is slipping from my hands and I'm trying
to drink it down, **** it up when I let go
of the neck and drop it and there is a mess
for me to clean up, I tell you what, all that
broken glass and those elusive little drops
that could've made everything so much better,
could've fixed me but oh well, guess I can't
watch TV anymore, 'cause I've got a mess to
try to clean up right now, yes siree, guess
that even the shiny happy people have to
**** it up and fix it every now and then
just like me and you and everyone else.