Anonymous Apology Poem by Anthony Liccione

It takes a drunk
to know another drunks
burden, that bridges
the drinking, crosses
the problem, erases
the solution, that no one
wants to taint their hands in,

sometimes it takes
a bleeding ulcer, to bring
together a near-fatal
relationship of a father
and son, that has gone
when the fists couldn't
break through a seventeen
year mirror, anymore

alcoholics anonymous and all
the 24-hour urgencies and treatment;
drinkline, helpline, pink floyd
supportline, newsvine,
the critics of a crisis ambiance,
all falling short of christ

sometimes it takes
the half of a brain of an ant,
that walks across white typing
paper, thinking unseen,
carrying something
3-times its size in its jaws,
until a ball-point pen traces
and runs over its tiny body
on the word, destitute

when the flow of ink
skittles into a clear fluid
of legs and antennas, heart,
venom and digestive system;
all meshed and dismembered
into the next word, remains.