The Night His Family Was Honest Poem by Aaron Rudolph

In high school, his friend dragged him feet first
through snow and slush, drunk head
trailing behind, bumping against concrete.
Later at home, his mother cried into a coffee pot,
struggling to force caffeine down his twisted mouth
while his father stripped his clothes,
as an Army officer would bust a sergeant,
and carried him to the bathtub, the cold water
doing what the coffee couldn't do.

Then his father dressed him and walked him
around the house. His younger brother and sisters
listened to babbles about Corona and peppermint Schnapps.
His little sister giggled every time he said ****
and his mother cringed when he asked for more beer.

His father remained somber, his warm hand
on his son's neck, thoughts of strangling
him quickly fading.

(published in Mankato Poetry Review)