𝗧𝗮𝗱𝗽𝗼𝗹𝗲

𝘣𝘺 𝘑𝘶𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘺𝘯 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘯

she churned inside

her Coca-Cola eyes

the burn of it

both balm and blessing—

amphibious design,

a single extremity—

homing device, an offset

to excessive amounts of liquor,

lines of coke, the occasional fatty

hungrily consumed

of a single evening

morphing into days & nights

then, haywire weekends

burnt-orange afternoons

incomprehensible mornings

the slang of the street

her only sustenance

welfare checks, for a time

until even loved ones

tired of hanging on,

holding out, hope

charred and mangled,

lifetimes sacrificed

to the god

of good times

---

Julie Allyn Johnson is a sawyer's daughter from the American Midwest whose current obsession is tackling the rough and tumble sport of quilting and the accumulation of fabric.  A Pushcart Prize nominee, her poetry can be found in Star*Line, The Briar Cliff Review, Phantom Kangaroo, Haven Speculative, Cream Scene Carnival, Coffin Bell, The Lake, Granfalloon, Chestnut Review and other journals.