Did my mother have DTs

From the Melcher Way collection
A recollection from my youth, circa 1986

That day, in the evening,
in the tiny living room—
nicotine-stained walls,
couches with the wooden armrests,

The ambulance people stormed in—
they took my mother by force.
The ghosts of her imagination
stood idly by.

Onto the stretcher,
into the straps,
out the front door,
into the back of the van—
off she went,

The remaining unopened cans of beer,
the jug of homemade wine
on the floor
in the kitchen,
next to the trash bin—
where she kept them—
had to go,

and so they did;
as did she;
and then did I.