........The Poetry Of.
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Gwendoline Karas
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she shine
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lit up on a curb,
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Maxie
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sang her song
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'bout the good lord come for
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lambs; not one i-amb
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nor sharp was silly
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when Maxie split those pipes
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weren't
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the dirt you saw- lace hem of slip
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from ragged skirt hung down like
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grace fell through- never knew
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if for the lord
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or for the quarters Maxie sang,
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dirty fingers keeping
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time
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but o she shine-
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father, son
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and baby
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ghost,
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throwed
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away oncst
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whisper
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in those ears
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one
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earring lost,
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far past her prime, but
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Maxie shine
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knowing flowers
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jack in the pulpit
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preachy
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purple
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blue as veins in pastor's
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nose
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lily
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of the valley
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roams gravestone rows
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and lady
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slipper long past
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midnight, scuffed,
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dusty,
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dancin
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with the feet still
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in em- reminds me how
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them
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strippers feel 'bout
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twelve clock midnight
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starin through a
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smokey
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light
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with one more
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bill to pay- this world
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grows
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flowers
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plenty: some
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are dancin,
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some are
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solemn- most are tired
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of what they are
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i gotta get
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some gladiolas
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brighten
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up this room
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with blooms that have no
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faces
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have no
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history- name em
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as they
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wake up.
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one on one
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Farm Life to a Child
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Rattlin
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skull,
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talk about
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barns. Daddy did sumpthin
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in em- squawk cow stomp
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eye roll,
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sky blue.
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See it, eye wide
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pupil,
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small. Red
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innards, outards.
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Push heifer, quiet now
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quiet girl
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and cry.
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Hand hit. Lip bled
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red.
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