New Poetry by Charlie Brice

Car Wreck on Foyer Avenue

Morning shakes my Daddy’s hands.
Mom calls him a son-of-a-bitch,
                        a drunken sot.

First memory: Outside. Concrete steps fall
down to the basement. Roy, Dale, and Bullet
                        packed into the tiny plastic jeep. 

I send them somersaulting, front over rear,
down the steps over and over again.
                        I’m a three-year-old teapot

short and stout. Happy trails again. Whoop-eo-kie-a 
git along little doggies. Fly covered jerky hangs on fences
                        at Frontier Park. Bucking broncos.

Tepees. Spurs. Buffalos’ peripheral vision, accusing vision. 
1211 Foyer Avenue, Cheyenne, Wyoming.
                        My birthplace.

Two analysts. Thousands of dollars. And they never got the metaphor. 


- Charlie Brice 2019

Charles W. Brice is a retired psychoanalyst and is the author of Flashcuts Out of Chaos (2016), Mnemosyne’s Hand (2018), and An Accident of Blood (forthcoming), all from WordTech Editions. His poetry has been nominated for the Best of Net anthology and twice for a Pushcart Prize and has appeared in The Atlanta Review, The Main Street Rag, Chiron Review, Fifth Wednesday Journal, The Sunlight Press, The Paterson Literary Review, Muddy River Poetry Review and elsewhere.