Poetry by Cody Lumpkin

As a child, I asked my father for one.
I suspected he had shoeboxes of them
in the trailer he lived in at the end
of a dirt road. A fresh one would litter
the floorboard of his Dodge Rampage
whenever he came to pick me up
for his weekend. The bottle would be
missing. No whiff of booze from
the driver’s seat. Its contents shared
with co-workers in the parking lot
after the graveyard shift. Their minds
a whisky fog, their steel-toe boots
knocking around the gravel that shifts
underneath their unspoken burdens.

Cody Lumpkin was born in Georgia, around hog-killing time. He is currently a Visiting Assistant Professor of English at Marshall University where he teaches film courses on the Marvel Cinematic Universe, James Bond, and Star Wars. He has had work published in Prairie Schooner and Weber: The Contemporary West.