the corner house by the liquor store, it’s not there anymore
mom’d yell ‘no strangers’ through the front door, it’s not there anymore
we knew to stay away from strangers, but the same ones would pass
at the bottle’s bottom I stare at what’s not there anymore
when I remember childhood I remember alcoholics
worn soldiers would pass by my front door, it’s not there anymore
pirate man and mr. ted blew their smoky breath through the cold
games we played of sibling civil war, it’s not there anymore
This piece, including the photos, is haunting (in the best sense of that word). I am so glad you are writing. It is exciting to see you finding your unique voice. Keep writing, keep writing, keep writing...we need your voice.
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