Archive for the ‘house of memory’ Category

hollyhocks

Posted: 07/01/2016 in house of memory, house of women

last house on the dead end,

no house across the steet

cos the one that used to be there burned down before i was born.

in the field there were old bedsprings,

allergy grass,

and tall big-leafed hollyhocks with pink blooms.

i decided they were the ghosts of old church ladies,

bent-backed from slicing pie at receptions.

every morning in summer, i waved to them,

wished them a blessed day,

and waited til i was out of sight to, as mama called it, start up with my bullshit.

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i got two dogs.

one’s nice, one ain’t.

them two’s my babies–

called skillet and shotgun.

come springtime,

if the road weren’t muddy, sometimes i wouldn’t know where i’d been.

there’s my tracks, and theirs, one to either side.

skillet got burrs,

shotgun caught a pellet,

and my dress was torn, but i can’t recall how.

best as i can guess,

it was the same old song–

should’ve left the mean one home,

but one gets lonesome without the other,

so i turn ’em both loose

when the moon is full,

and the usual cautions don’t catch hold.

1-14 Bree and the Dreamweaver Coat 8 x 10 mixed media on canvas panel..jpg photowe were fucking around, that’s all,

and the tip of john’s jack-knife ended up in my thigh.

it wouldn’t stop bleeding, but i’d rather eat nails than call

mama for a ride, cos she’d bitch and know we’d been high.

 

i said i had to go, and hoofed it home, cos i didn’t want john to see me cry,

but i had to hide those jeans and i’ve still got the scar

to remind me of the night, and the blood, and the stars.

_____

a rhyme royal, more or less, for Grace’s mini challenge at Real Toads.

art at top “Bree and Dreamweaver Coat” by the very groovy Lisa Graham.