a poem by Joseph Veronneau
Play-by-Play
clutching the railing as her ring spins with each grasp. With the bottle gone, she has turned to the almighty pill gods this time. They have not granted serenity anymore than the bottle. She twists into sleep with Bill Walton doing a play-by-play into her cerebellum. When the sun rises, she doesn't. The toilet supplies more support than any of her family ever had, and she visits it often, the last pieces of misconstrued dinner spewing out like so many promises of quitting before. |