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I felt like  
I was getting him back  
but now I’m  
losing him all over  
again. Daddy’s drinking vodka  
‘cause he heard somewhere  
that Momma couldn’t smell 
it on him, but the alcohol 
seeps from him—a stench  
you can’t shower off. 

He drinks himself  
a personable fool, 
friendly until the fuse sparks; 
then his anger manifests 
in fist-sized holes 
in the walls and broken  
televisions. I used to watch  
the images splinter  
as he stormed out of the room. 

One night, he backed  
my brother’s truck 
into the side of the house,  
drunk stupid. One day, 
he took a swig 
every time he passed  
the bourbon, running laps 
around the kitchen island 
for an excuse to circle back.  

I don’t know  
when I’ll have to say goodbye 
to him, but I hope  
it isn’t before  
he says goodbye  
to the bottle.  

Dex Fee

What the Bourbon Does to Him