June 22, 2019 10:14 pm #12
Ran away negro
woman Mary, 26, ordinary, lost
front teeth;
speaks French and English; has
child six months old
with her.
intimate with negro William,
both have long
time relations with negro fishermen at the Bayou. reward
Twenty Dollars
bring her
back
June 22, 2019 6:14pm #10
I poured a moonbeam from
my canteen into the
Sunday
morning fog.
The damn fir sat on the
dock telling a
concrete
shelf to hush.
June 22, 2019 7:14 pm #11
If you just tweak a few things back
there in 1966, life between
here and there will run
much more smoothly.
There will be less
to regret.
Then again,
if you change one thing,
everything will be
different.
June 22, 2019 6:00pm #9
My mother didn’t leave her voice.
She died young and took
it with her. But
sometimes, I hear her
laugh.
June 22, 2019 4:34 pm #8
Days we live with
sunshine, heat and
biting bugs.
Evenings bring
sunset, rain and
flickering fireflies.
Summer time in Georgia.
June 22, 2019 4:01 pm #7
From the ruined house at the end of the dirt road,
he came out of the dark to our campfire. Roasting
marshmallows, we pull the
crispy, tender brown
from the soft white center. Colors
explode, showering sparks
down over the lake. Fourth of
July we watched fireworks from my father’s
high rise fortress on the river. A sepia
photograph of the woman in gauzy,
off the shoulder evening wear, lying in the alley,
wet in the melting March snow. Two
houses and the church burned to the ground
that year. Nothing left but ashes.
Sandy colored, he came
like some lost ancestor
out of the dark. Sparks flying
from the fire.
June 22, 2019 3:04 pm
It was a hot Georgia summer day. As
my husband drove off, we
hollered and yelled
trying to get his attention. To
no avail, he disappeared over the hill.
My granddaughter and I were
barefooted, our cell phones
inside, it would be evening beforehe returned.
he returned.
We drank from the hose and sat
on orange buckets and a pile of bricks.
Considered walking to a neighbor’s and
using their phone to call for help.
But the asphalt was burning up, the
neighbors were still strangers, we knew
nobody’s numbers.
Being eaten alive by mosquitoes, we
soaked our feet in the
orange buckets.
When it started to rain, we
stood under the roof overhang.
Such relief when Ayanna came
home early and saved
us.
June 22, 2019 1:40 pm #5
We rode the motorcycle double
through the rain.
As it changed to snow,
we turned
back. The road was slick.
There was so
far to go.
we stopped at her house.
She invited us in
to wait out the storm,
to sleep there.
Lot’s of beds with lots
of old quilts, but the
bathrooms…
the bathrooms were all in
use.
June 22, 2019 12:57 pm #4
In the dark, warm
night, one firefly,
high above the trees,
like the light of an
airplane.
June 22, 2019 12:02 pm #3
Through the house, past dead ants,
dusty floors and bookcases overfull with books
and games and more dust.
I push the neglected can of prayer requests
in front of the door to hold it open.
The warm air outside makes the
house feel cool.
Stepping outside, I smell bacon.
The cicadas are singing. I walk through
an invisible thread of spider silk
strung across the drive.
On the cement, tiny ants are busy.
Behind the crack in the pavement, and
the poke bush, the hydrangea
has a pink flower.
Near the mailbox, I pick up a yellow leaf
and a small red one. I leave the pecans
lie. Next door the neighbor’s lawn is as
neatly groomed as mine is not. English
ivy, elaeagnus and trees grow at
will over here.
A car goes by. Through
the newly trimmed bushes I see
my wild yard.
