Joan Rivard

 meeting

good luck sweetie

unbearable, the little flicker
in my moms eyes as she begins to hope
again. i slam the car door hard
that flicker i just cant deal with its weight.
hardpacked snow squeak-squeaks a few people
hunch in the doorway grabbing a quick cold smoke
i havent been to meetings in a while.

welcome

but i dont answer cant find my words
i dont know why i failed at rehab and failed again and
its clear i am a lousy human being
but today i aim myself once more at sobriety.
inside warmth chairs being dragged into place 
smell of sour old coats and rock bottom. movement seems slow
stuttering disconnected from sounds i might still be high. 
someone drops hard into the plastic chair beside me
erupts into phlegmy coughing momentarily unable to speak
lifts a hand and gives me a wave her aluminum crutches
clatter to the floor insanely loud we all flinch.

you ok? i say

peachy

we snicker this warm battered room this respite    
from clean shiny people so exhaustingly
eager to help confusion doesn’t matter maybe its normal
just sharing an unthreatening moment cups
of bitter coffee helping us stick our landings.

Joan Rivard is a Canadian writer who loves poetry. She thinks you should start sharing those superb words you've been carrying around inside.