I guess I just went a little crazy: filling
a decade with all those kids.
But it was fun.
He was an addict’s
addict, treating himself
with dope and booze
hidden in bird’s-eye
maple drawers, their keyholes
looking into dark secrets
while “St. James Infirmary” throbbed
in the back of the bar.
The dirt was red and heat
rose up like mountains.
Candace Black
Candace Black teaches creative writing at Minnesota State University, Mankato. She is the author of three collections of poems: The Volunteer, Casa Marina, and Whereabouts. Her creative nonfiction has appeared in several journals, including Pinyon, Great River Review, Superstition Review, Turnrow, and War, Literature & the Arts.