Magazine · Poetry

The Blizzard by Elijah

The sound of spit.
Sandy sucks her tight
teeth, tastes metal.

They sell crystal-meth in the trailer
next door. Before ‘Trapper’ was
colloquial for drug-dealer, at least
to the white-people who lived here,
it was just the neighbor’s name.
Trapper was Sandy’s uncle.

A blizzard

left the trailer-park powerless.
It was spring break. Bad timing.
Too soon for an excuse to miss school.
Snow stood taller than the children.

Sandy

was the only living girl who lived there.
When she moved in, the boys followed
her. She was the first person they ever
wanted to fuck.

Trapper’s

truck could plow through the snow.
He drove Clay and his clever father
to get groceries. Perishables were left
outside because it was cold enough
and the trailer-park had no

power

for fridges. Ceilings were collapsing.
Clay’s brother was the oldest, strongest
boy. He climbed trailers with a shovel,
making a killing! 20! 30! 40! dollars per-
roof! Trapper gave him 200! a type of

money

these kids had ever held. He was nothing
like the criminals on TV. The boys thought
him a nice man, fat, bald, greasy-black hair
sprouting from the sides of his

fucking

head. He was also her step-dad too. Her little sister
lived there too, but nobody wanted to fuck her.
He beat the shit out of them like his own daughters.
The boys were oblivious. Clay’s father called

the police.

How embarrassing! Years after the park
was demolished, Clay worked at the mall.
He barely recognized Trapper in the
phone-store—skinny, missing teeth.

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