From the Frame
by Jennifer Gawinski Cuming
Addiction, like a shattered pane,
shards rearranged, but all in vain.
Glue fills the cracks—but seams remain.
You are not the only maimed.
The drug shone bright like a pawnshop ring.
Though it’s a fake, you buy it again.
Your head feels full of jasmine smoke.
Rat poison hides in that powdered coke.
Tape covers your windows and doors
to hide watching eyes and monsters.
Lungs fill with fluid—stealing your breath.
IVs drip in your arms, stalling death.
Our Christmas feast without your laugh
leaves frost along your photograph.
We bow our heads, won’t say your name.
The father you were stares from the frame.
Jennifer Gawinski Cuming writes poetry that explores memory, loss, and the hidden fractures of human experience. Her work often illuminates the shadowed spaces of family, addiction, and intimate relationships, pairing precise imagery with emotional resonance. She lives in the Midwest.