Mother
Raud
Kennedy
At
dinner
at her daughter’s house,
she forces a smile,
but her darting eyes
give her away.
Her skin is screaming,
her eyes itching.
With a hot flash
of adrenaline,
the leading trail of detox
washes over her.
She needs her wine,
but she can’t drink
around her ex-husband.
He told her
they were both alcoholics,
and now she must feign
she’s not.
But it’s beyond that.
Everyone sees the nerve
damage,
the awkward walking,
the poor balance, drunk or sober.
She avoids
social affairs unless
there’s wine
available
and she’s accompanied
by others who won’t say
anything
about her drinking
because
they don’t want
anyone
to say
anything
about
their own.
When
dinner
is
over
she
leaves
abruptly,
and
her anxiety
wanes
now
that her first sip
of
wine
is
just a short trip
away
and
she wishes
she
could’ve stayed
longer.
***
Raud
Kennedy, currently living in Portland, Oregon, has had poems
published in the States, England, and Scotland.
©
Raud Kennedy