Crosstalk at 12 Step Meeting

Screwing up the courage

to share a shard of pain

that has haunted you since

crying alone on the grassy corner

after discovering your family

had gone somewhere without you.

House empty, opening each door,

your small hands barely fit the knobs,

screaming for someone to be home.

It is old news, so you describe

what has brought it on again,

how your sister has told you

Don’t call me after picking a fight

with you because her husband can’t

argue anymore because he can't remember

and her body can’t take another fall.

You squeeze out a drop of the grief,

relying on that godly source,

some bit of group grace that happens

if everyone sticks to their story.

Then some cocksucker says,

clearly referring to your share,

Oh, another pity party…

You pull everything in again,

the opening slams shut.