Late home alone, in hopes of rest

But daughter phones in great distress;

Had desperate call from high-school friend

Arrived at house, forced her way in,

Saw bottle empty, bathroom scrubbed

Friend very still, face-down in tub;

“Call 9-1-1, stay on the line,”

I drive like mad, thoughts slowing time;

Strobes flash red through viscous night,

Medics on scene, chaos and light

Daughter pale, faint cry from rear

As wounded soul spills pain and fear;

Gurney bumps down long back stair;

Now it’s quiet, drink fresh air—

I’m like a felon, freed from jail

Her endless hug, and long exhale…

This content is only available via PDF.

Article PDF first page preview

Article PDF first page preview