The Great Recession

A bridge closed, a death kneel. Wise Liquors, my father’s business inherited from his father, suffered, bled out customers, the money all dried up; the irony of a road, a business, named Wise when those who lived on it, those who worked on it, not lost—

My father, as the coffers emptied, spent and spent money not had, money meant for my sister, money meant for me, money that didn’t stand a chance in the account of a desperate man—

My mother scrubbed enough dishes for half a lifetime, her hands wrinkling with each pass of the sponge, hair greying, though the dye disguised her age, feigned youth, daydreaming of life not lived—

My sister turned to her friends, young men who harassed me, hid my bike in a treehouse, prevented my leave as hot piss ran down the leg of my jeans, staining the inseam dark, assaulted by laughter and shame—

One summer day, on my eleventh birthday, not long before all the money evaporated, my grandma, pallid and waxen, suffered a second heart attack and two more stents were placed within her aorta, the geography of her heart changed indefinitely—

In time, Dundalk fell quiet, destitute, all life existed elsewhere. The fog intensifies over town, obscuring light from the sun, allowing darkness to ease its way into the lives of the families—

Divorce papers signed, we, the children, were left to the mess of separation, though my sister dodged the draft, fluttering away to Pennsylvania for college while I was left—

Some night, when it rains, I’d listen to the sound of droplets against the windowpane, the soft, irregular patter of water reminding me that life, itself, is an irregular pattern. When the clouds part to reveal the soft glow of the moon, each remaining raindrop holds an impossible light—

Coty Poynter is a writer from Baltimore, Maryland. He’s the author of two poetry books, most recently Delirium: Poems, a collection published by Bowen Press. His work has been published in Black Fox Literary Magazine, Equinox, and Grub Street. Currently, he’s the former creative nonfiction editor at Mud Season Review, a contributor for Write or Die Tribe, and a current graduate student in Towson University’s professional writing program. You can learn more about his work at cotypoynter.com