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father awakened

beckoned by bathroom in night

his death approaching like headlights in


in cars he careened into cornfields so

long ago

in women he obsessed over

poured over while rolling tea

in records he flips through


suffering alone, retracting into song

crucifix still hung over his jaded bedpost

lotion still sits on by his bed

where he lay debased and tempted

by nothing

while his house breaths fissures

and crumbles

where his legacy sits truncated and dusted

in books of song

carpet collecting impressionistic stains

stove top counting days with soot

medicine cabinet reminds of his frivolous


when he was foolish and paid bills

before he was afraid to climb his creaking


before he delivered flowers to the funeral


before the acetaminophen ate his soul
Trinity Carlyle Nov 2017
Bright kid
Straight A's
Always quiet as a mouse

But nowadays it seems she can barely even leave her house

Can't breathe
Can't speak
Can't even walk down the street without help

The doctors don't know what her body is doing to itself

"Go there
Take that
Pull her from this, this, and that"

Late nights
No sleep
Is barely able to eat

There's something wrong
They know it's true
"The symptoms just aren't there," they say, "Where's the proof?"

Work piling up
Quizzes missed
How is she expected to finish all of this?


"All of the above
Not to mention a killer headache
and a bit of a stomach bug"

"There's no temperature yet,
So all we can do
Is give her some Tylenol with Codeine
And see if it's just the flu"

Bright kid
Hardly an A in sight
Always quiet as a mouse
Except for at night
This is about the struggle I'm currently having with my asthma, I suppose.

— The End —