Vitamin Whiskey - Molly Jordan

I was four
When I drew
Square boxes
With jutting
Flowers and
Criss cross
A stick-
Figured family
With apple-blushed
And armies of
To make teeth white
And hair long
And children happy.

That family was not my family,
But when you are four
You can’t draw
The word
And how sick it makes you feel
When it takes up all the kitchen air
And makes the food taste sour.

You don’t have a crayon
The right brunette-honey shade
To fill in
All the tipsy bottles
Named Jack,
And how they
Daddy’s breath. 

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Poem by Molly Jordan