June Kino Cullen
For One Night Outside, snow spins, glides with the wind. In the corner of my son’s room, a toy piano. I sit on the floor, rest my hand on the keys. Mom plays a blue organ when I am five. The shadow of my stepfather looms over us. He dances while she struggles to stay in tune. We wait for his laughter to break into rage. But it is Christmas Eve. Arms outstretched, he twirls. Fear and fury leave him for the night. Scent of pine brings back his radiant smile. All is calm. Sleep in heavenly peace. I let myself miss the man who drank his death.