Sunday Dinner

Still frying chicken
drunk,
fell off the wagon
made rainbows in the yard
greening the thirsty grass
a small relief from
the afternoon sun
relentless on the back side of the house
all day
I been rinsing shitty fish gravel
washing pissy clothes
load after load.

When you left
I threw a bowl of raw chicken
across the room
slammed the doors and
smashed the drawers
on my dream refrigerator
the kind that makes ice,
(crushed or cubed)
but the kids ain’t even mad
at my disowning them
’cause we all laughed
when the dog wagged out the door
with a fat-dripping breast.