“Dear
Mary” by Jill Parshley ©September 2011
Mary sat many a times at the bar whimpering
An empty stool her only companion
The stars and sun both knew her well, piercing
through the tall windows
A jack and coke, or a murphy’s ale was all she ever
chose
Once she started, she could not stop
and in a cab I’d help her hop
And she often sat sad, with her eyes closed
Tears of smudged liner
above her ruddy nose
I didn’t have to ask
We all knew what happened
I’d refill
her glass
and replace her wet cocktail napkins
while nodding my head in compassion.
I started with Shirley temples at age seven
then Sips of screwdrivers at eleven
But, sneaking 40 oz.’s and champagne at sweet
sixteens could not slide
the secrets I hoped to hide,
and for years the spirits drove me to hell.
So I listen to her as I sip my gingerale
and until my shift is done, I spy Mary McDonnell and
identify as one.
When Mary is in a blackout,
she still remembers that day,
while she slips into oblivion...
She had been playing near her garage with their son.
Her husband was off to work, it was a sunny day
when their little boy got in the way
of their car.
Her husband backed up and kept driving,
the sun’s glare was so blinding
that he couldn’t see the tricycle
(And the baby was killed)
The whole town showed up for the funeral,
but now alone, Mary just drinks and sits still.
It’s nothing we talk about but all that we know.
We crawl out of our skin
from the things that happen
And all the kings horses and all the kings men,
And all the whiskey can’t put Mary back together
again.
Dear Mary,
I pray you will set yourself free, so that you can
finally be.
And Dear Mary,
I hope for the day you will forgive,
So that you can finally live.
