how the fuck do you throw a party
for someone who drank themselves to death?
how do you go about clinking glasses
telling the jovial stories
i’ll run home quick as i can
my baby girl is there
i’ll hold her, kiss the top of her head
pray for her
pray for grandkids one day
because here, death is dancing in the middle of the room,
a not so subtle reminder,
that hell is a place and some people go there.