PERSON Poem: Elegy for The Candyman, by Ashley Patrice

You drank black water until your liver
burst. You lay slime green in your hearse,
after two weeks. Tart tears slip from my eyes,
stinging my cheeks that sigh relief
from your tobacco-infected lips. You dug
a grave of wrath and pride. I saw you last

before you expired alone. We were together
two days beforehand. We ate grocery store
fried chicken at nine in the morning. I wanted
Subway, and you insisted on Trini and Carmi’s
for a supreme nacho bathed in cheese and artery
blockage. The October air wasn’t as cold

as your tone when you tried to discipline me.
Hooking up your box television with no cable.
How dare you! You didn’t have Disney, Nickel-
odeon, or Cartoon Network. I didn’t want to watch
“Family Feud” with you because that wasn’t
our thing. Our thing was meeting at the police

station twice a week. Tuesdays after a long day
of fifth grade. Saturdays at the crack of dawn
till after dark. Our thing was waiting on you
because you showed up whenever you wanted,
for the havoc you initiated. You demanded power
through hatred and destruction.

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest