For Starters…

2 10 2012

Hey hey, I’m back. This time I have a poem I wrote last week for my class. As of yesterday it got a thorough critique. So I still have some work to do on it. But as the tag line to this blog is pure, raw unedited… i’m posting first drafts. Hollar with your comments or suggestions!

Ciao.

Au Poivre: With Pepper

During the fall months it was dank in the culvert under Dobbson’s street.
“The smell was not just of cat piss and foul tinned fish” but it was as if
Death itself had curled down there to sleep. Yet in the summer
the creek dried up leaving nothing but the crispy husks
of mud babies, broken glass and a fine cayenne silt that clung
to the bottom of my blanket and worked its way into
the bindings of all my books. That 7×15 hollow of corrugated tin
was my Narnia, Naboo, Neverland. It protected from the sun and tongue-lashings
for daddy had a peppercorn temper. The kind with creole heat
that leaves anger in your mouth and the imprint of
tongs on Momma’s back. I was seventeen when he died, mid-beer,
of a heart attack Mother told me “never EVER marry
a football player.” But I did. And now dessert, at least once a week,
is served with the taste of blood from when fist and flesh meet.

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