Eighteen-wheelers pass and rain falls
like tinsel twists into marram grass.
A preacher's wife in flimsy wraps
runs away from God and man--
cotton dress and shoes untied,
and a gob of rags between her legs
stuck sopping in her underpants.
Jellies canned and peach preserves,
calendars nailed to basement shelves
marked months of ugly wedded lock
to the cleansed soul and cold heart
of a Holy Roller, Bible Belt man.
He called her lewd the day she leaked
and stained the Bible Book, fingerprints
on Exodus, trace of smear on Genesis.
Against that blood raged Roller Man--
he'll beat the buckled-strap ten times
on her sweet and innocent bloody ass.
Headlights torch the marram grass;
gully nettles spear her legs
and insistence thicks the tacky patch.
A truck stops-- to a husky man
who honors blood she'll pay her way,
give good head and road romance.
Surprised by joy the driver laughs
and drones his wheels to Anytown--
rains falls like tinsel into marram grass.
##
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I'll have to come back for a more in-depth read, but just wanted to make an initial comment here. This is so full of vivid imagery that my head is spinning. Lush and much enjoyed.
ReplyDeleteThis is the first structured piece from you that I've had the pleasure of reading.
ReplyDeleteIf anyone feels the need to approach structured form, they should see the likes of this for inspiration.
And, as always, the story telling is remarkable.
Very enjoyable read, hypnotic!