He came home drunk.
How was your day?
I can’t say. You won’t
remember;
does it matter?
Superficial, I did this, that,
whatever. We’ll try again tomorrow.
He came home drunk. But
not from alcohol.
There’s no liquor on his breath.
Still,
he’s absent, still. It’s the same.
Tired. Slurring
words
sliding, skipping, falling
asleep at the table.
Present, but
he’s absent, still.
Drunk
on work. Get it out,
get it out. Are you done?
Are you done? Are you done
yet?
Drunk but
there’s work, still.
Are you tired?
Of course. I feel your head
ache
in my brain. How can you think,
or even speak,
sliding, skipping, falling
out, down, around the block.
Don’t wait up for me.
Exhausted. Slurring
words, falling
asleep at the table.
Hannah Gillespie is a writer and full-time engineer at Boeing in Seattle, WA. Her work has been featured in the Re:Visions journal and the de Nicola Center for Ethics and Culture Fall Conference at the University of Notre Dame.