| Author | Message | ||
| M
Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4675 Registered: 11-1998 |
Poem of the Week Tonsillectomy James Lineberger Bathing our wounds with ice cream we watch the customers arriving at the bootlegger’s next door, workers from the shell plant, most of them, ten miles of dirt road all the way from Steele Creek to drink it by the glass at a sawhorse bar in Marion Hoffman’s kitchen, washing down the gunpowder dust at a quarter a shot, unsmiling men who speak in hoarse whispers about the women they’ve left behind in Richmond or Knoxville, women who look a lot like you, they say, the way you smile, way you will reach out to them sometimes and touch their sad faces like you really understand, way you bend over us now, my brothers and me, to tuck the covers in and murmur goodnight and taste the butterscotch on our lips before you go |
