Poem-A-Day: Day 2

by Laekin

1980 Subaru Forester

In response to “The Righteous Dopefiend” exhibit. 

Car lights aim for me,

terror clenches my throat with

needles popping out my arms.



Wife screaming,

Me leaving,

Drugs calling.


The bank reclaims our house.

I squeeze more fluid straight

into my blood stream.


Walking into the doctor’s office,

watching his lips move,

“Your daughter will be born,


but she will be born dead.”

Stillborn they call it.

My marriage ending:


my wife sobbing,

my needles healing,

my wife screaming.


Packing a bag with

one change of clothes

and all my needles.


Ending my marriage

because I could only feel

by plunging a syringe at my elbow.


Starting my 1980 Subaru

Forester needle in hand

route unplanned.



I weep.

I deserve to die, but

I don’t want to.


I brace for impact,

street lights stare blindly at me.


P.S. Here’s the image: