Brian Daldorph

The Wringer

Henry says he’s here because he fucked up again:
he’d stayed sober for a year then fell off the wagon,
cracked his head on blacktop.
Judge gave him six months (suspended) and said:
“Don’t let me see you in my court again.”

Ronda says she drinks to take away the pain—
she lost her daughter to an overdose.
Her son was badly hurt in a car accident--
he’ll never walk again.

Matt says he’s like his Dad, can’t keep off the sauce.

Jackie says: “I’m a drunk and I’ll always be a drunk.
Sometimes I have a good week, sometimes bad.”

I tell them that I need to dry out.
Need to get my life back on track.

Our leader, Philip, is a nurse.
He tells us he had years on the bottle:
“So I know what I’m talking about.”
He asks us to bow our heads in prayer or meditation.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” says Philip.
“Who’s got a story to tell?”

I raise my hand and start in.
It’s like I’m wringing the poison out of me,
the booze, the juice,
squeezing my damn devil out.