WE DON’T TALK ABOUT MY DAD

Drink number one is always at the office

So are drinks two through six
He makes his way home
Stumbles through the door
Pulls out the vodka

Ashes on the porch

Cigar smoke in the air

The next one is lit with a blowtorch

His shirt covered in holes
You would never know

he’s a wealthy businessman

With a white Picket wife
Or a child
With two large dogs in tow

They live on a little plot of farmland

Where nothing ever grows
The drugs seep into the soil

The smoke clogs the air

Daughter bleeds among

the wildflowers
Her dad’s addictions

Are chemical warfare
Her lungs
Black, Brooding

Consistency of wet charcoal

A rainbow child

Barely still breathing;
Never to be whole

By C.G. Myth

Biography

I am a partner to my girlfriend, Eliana, and a parent to my odd, anxious dog, Sammy. I am the social media director at the Talon Review. I’ll earn a BA from the University of North Florida in spring 2021, and begin my pursuit of an MFA from Stetson University in summer 2021. My poetry and short stories won the Sullivan Writing Scholarship.