Elixir by Janette Schafer

When I was 5, I discovered alcohol in abandoned red cups
scattered about the Green House, the first place we lived
in Detroit after Venezuela.

Dad rolled blunts on a burned out coffee table while Mom
played with his wiry black hair. Aunt Sherry put her hand
on his knee, slid her fingers up to his zipper.

I went from cup to cup and room to room
as motorcycle after motorcycle parked
in our front yard.

The beer was a healing bitter herb,
a toy kaleidoscope, swirl of orange, yellow,
and red in fragmented shapes

amid the noise of black leather
and silver chrome. Dizzy with drink,
I fell in a slow arc,
laughter loud in my ringing ears.



Janette Schafer is a freelance writer, nature photographer, part-time rock n roll singer, and full-time banker living in Pittsburgh, PA. She is a 2017 awardee of the Maenad Fellowship through Chatham University. Her writing and photographs have recently appeared in: Rigorous Journal; Unlikely Stories V; Nasty Women & Bad Hombres Anthology; Dear America, Reflections on Race; and PublicSource.