the 25th

Blues and whiskey soak the night,
he stumbles onto a memory
quickly vanquishing it with a swig.

He imagines the stars all abandoning the sky
and a soft black sheet enfolding the earth.

Imagines wind swept hair and dancing feet
on a shoreline stretching to eternity.

He remembers how the houses smiled so warmly
lined up on his old block, and how
they turned crooked and haunting overnight.

Remembers how the lights
twinkled on the Christmas tree
and how easily the paper tore apart.

He remembers how the roads were icy
and how the policeman made him blow
a 0.06. How his children were still like they were sleeping,
of how easy the paper was to tear.
He remembers the silence of their graves
and the pain as his wife's back
curved into sunlight, and
how easy it was to cry.

He is reminded of the shore
and how the sea stole those footprints left in sand.