A poem by Baxter Holland

 Alcoholic Roxie

 Sue Hayden loves a dead
man loudly, and Roxie drinks
herself to sleep loud enough

that the boy has to coat them
with paper, Pa watches but
says a man doesn't do these

things, ripping paper just
a bit. The volume turns up.
The boy goes to bed without

his cocoon and has to sweat
their voices out before he wakes.
Tomorrow he will build a tiny

theater behind their backs.

 

- - Baxter Holland