mama morgan’s creaking porch swing
postured and punctuated by the wind’s pulse
of the lazy afternoon swabbed the country-side
in a warm dirge of music, accompanying
the near-constant but always distant crow’s caw.
both were friends to the silent grasses.

around the small town,
neighbors knew Minion as that
black haired woman that’d
slap her nephew’s face
when he’s drunk and making life
hell for us young ‘uns.

of course she’s God-fearing,
townsfolk’d mention that.
all i knew was she’s my
daddy’s mama, and would
teach me how to bait a hook,
and survive the monsters of the outdoor toilet.

09/20/2006