Sunday Coffee

Mama always brewed hot, black coffee
on Sunday mornings
We all wondered
if that was the special Jesus potion
to bring our Daddy back to us

His whiskey-scorched eyes
tried to meet my cornflower ones,
but they could not
Our danced-on, spilled-on hardwoods
always got the best of Daddy’s eyes

I missed him
his wrinkled dollar bills
he gave me to skip to the 7-11
for all the candy
four quarters could buy

I loved the bottle caps and candy cigarettes
and how
Daddy sometimes smoked with me
his Winstons swirled in the balmy night,
and I danced movie star steps in my head

Mama always brewed hot, black coffee
on Sunday mornings,
but I think Jesus
had forgotten
about my Daddy

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About the Author

Sallie Crotty has published many places, including The Dairy Hollow Echo; The Drabble; eMerge; and Resources to Recover. The Writers’ Colony at Dairy Hollow awarded her a residency in 2018. Sallie holds a B.A. in English from Sewanee: The University of the South and an Ed.M. from Harvard. Currently, she is pursuing her MFA at Queens University of Charlotte. She is working on a poetry collection. Her memoir Out of the Ashes: A Story of Recovery and Hope released in June 2022.