Friday night excitement:
the big people all smiles.
"Dad's going to the Cash 'n Carry!"
He comes home with a "mickey"
and some other stuff
they call "booze".
The four year old watches
with big eyes
as the "party" starts.
Banished from the living room,
she hides behind the couch
to keep watch,
slips away down the hall
as the voices escalate,
shivers in her bed
as the screams and bumps,
the crashes and strangled cries
rend the air
towards midnight.
Thirteen years of midnights,
afraid that in the morning
one of her parents
will be dead,
and she'll be left with
the wrong one.
Then alcohol claimed its victim
and he was gone.
The other victims
continued living.
Corey over at Real Toads set the prompt of liquor, a topic I know a considerable amount about.
What a painful 4 -year old perspective of alcohol and its victims. 13 years of these midnights. If ever a poem could make parents pause, this is the one.
ReplyDeleteOh, Sherry, this is such a painful poem. I cannot imagine what it must be like for children to live in this kind of environment. But I know many do......
ReplyDeleteIt all starts with a mickey, then the deluge.
ReplyDeleteWell done, Sherry, and ever so very sad.
Luv, K
Riveting, gut wrenching, powerful poem!
ReplyDelete