Can’t imagine what she felt.
When I was five I got lost
in a train station. My whole body
shook from the inside.
I wet myself.
Wasn’t ashamed.
I’m sure she had it worse.
Can’t imagine what she smelled.
I worked at a nursing home
inhaling shit, piss, vomit—
tasting the stink of death.
Held my breath
Used Vicks.
I’m sure she can’t forget.
Can’t imagine what she saw.
During withdrawal
I’d wake up sober. Felt certain
I was still drunk.
I had visions.
Believed them.
Hers are worse.
Can’t imagine what she heard.
My parents fought with fists.
Called us mistakes.
What we never heard
Shop still open?
Yeah
Alex Stolis has had poems published in numerous journals. Two full length collections, Pop. 1280 and John Berryman Died Here were released by Cyberwit and available on Amazon. His work has previously appeared or is forthcoming in Piker’s Press, Ekphrastic Review, Louisiana Literature Review, Burningwood Literary Journal, and Star 82 Review. His chapbook Postcards from the Knife-Thrower's Wife was released by Louisiana Literature Press, RIP Winston Smith from Alien Buddha Press, and The Hum of Geometry; The Music of Spheres in by Bottlecap Press. He lives in upstate New York with his partner, poet Catherine Arra.
