Singing in the Car

Lisa Shulman

Driving home tonight, I remember 

how you would sing in the old Rambler,

belting out showtunes, my sisters and I 

squished in the back seat, giggling,

calling out requests. We knew

the words to your college drinking songs

long before we could drink 

anything stronger than grape soda.

BLANK

Knew them before we had words

to describe the heavy undertow of your step,

before fist-sized holes wailed in walls

and we rattled like seeds in dark corners,

before all my memories were tinted

a whisky-colored amber, bitter as gin.