daddy dearest

my father moved into the walls 

he crawled inside, all awful, slow, and depressed 

rocking the shelves, the pictures, and the halls 

slinking around the earth in his Sunday best 

my daddy lives inside our walls 

he picked up and left, gone without a trace 

he built a bed out of dust, dreams, and dolls 

and now i see a bit too much of him in my brother’s face 

my dad died within these walls 

they crumbled down upon him, burying him alive 

after that, he slid into my car, 

whispering “drive, mojo, drive” 

oh my dearest daddy, who art in heaven or in hell 

but really, he lies rotting on the gulf, in Mobile 

About the Author

Jocelyn Royal is a third-year Biology major with a minor in Creative Writing. They are heavily involved in the sciences, but they value creativity and art immensely. They adore writing and are so glad they have the opportunity to share their passion with you.