Wherever Is Never Explored

Happiness in a bottle. She finds that all the time in the beer. She scares me.

Call her what you will: A lush, a drunk, an alcoholic. But she’s my mom.

Vodka, Tequila, Corona. Just a few names of the drinks she likes.

Can she stop? No, I doubt it. I believe that her emotions get lost in that bottle.

A Nurturing Dream

The hint of fear goes through my room. Me and my brother. “She’s drunk again,”

He whispers to me. We heard that crash. It was the lamp in the living room.

We ran to see what happened. She lies on the ground, lying in her own vomit.

It is sickening. We sigh. Help mom get to bed after cleaning her off and clean the room.

Being Extraordinary En Route

We cry. It’s never gonna change. Tension is thick. Resentment goes through the room.

About the alcohol. About our lives. Doing this all the time, every night. About our mom?

We look at each other and think about it. Dad’s hardly home and never sees his wife.

Please, take me away from all of these problems. We don’t need a drunk.

We need a mom. Someone… please help mommy.

Angeline Winnchester, Age 11

P.S. The titles of the poems were what my mother always told us to get by.