I can still hear him calling my name across the yard
Get your ass in the house
his hazel eyes hateful slits red drunk
mad at me again
dirty feet, barefoot, running circles under filbert trees
bats overhead in the summer sky
stars nodding sadly that they were ill fit for protection
they just kept quiet I guess
inside the swelling glow of too much fighting drunk
and the log trucks returned from long days up the river
with full loads
I am called once again through the back door to hell