Kicking at the dirt of the dirt sidewalk;
Pulling my sister along by the hand.
Old Johnny Devoe has dumped his bucket
Across the road. “Don’t look sister. Hide your eyes.”
I have seen him so drunk that his face folded
Like a jigsaw going back into its cardboard box.
Old Devoe is dead now and in the ground.
His final act was to bury his house in ash.
I poke a metal tap from out of the black soot.
To show my sister, I pretend to wash my hands.