Poetry
Zooming Past Shotgun Houses
I captured the sorrow you sent me
like a star
it burned my palm
when it promised to nourish
I captured the sorrow you sent me
like a star
it burned my palm
when it promised to nourish
No one knows where the doll came from. With its blue glass eyes and ribboned hair, it looks like the ones you see at department stores and wonder who the hell buys them. “It’s gonna kill us in our sleep,” Kathy says, slapping Yuki’s hand away when he tries to play with the doll’s horsetail hair.
They were on their way to El Paso when Yolanda asked Bernard to pull over. He choked the steering wheel until his fingers turned white. “Are you fucking serious?” “It’s okay,” she said shrinking into her seat, her hands rubbing together nervously between her thighs. “I can hold it.”
First,
There is the procession of the snakes.
A wave of speckled heads with their thrilling patterns,
the tangle of their bodies as they weave
The Faire gates swing wide to the tune of a jester and fairy blowing bubbles the size of beach balls. People laugh. Music drifts from every direction. Kids wave foam swords as the tantalizing smell of turkey legs and garlic mushrooms wafts through the walkway. Laughter echoes from the mud pit; a juggler drops a flaming torch and the crowd cheers as if it were intentional