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