I wasn’t made from the rib of a man
I was fashioned from a potent mixture
Of Gun Powder
And the Seeds of Bluebonnets
Bound together with the Sap of Mesquite Trees
I didn’t crack forth from the skull of a god
I was born in an Oyster Shell in Galveston Bay
And adorned with Pearls on my Birthday
I’m the Feral Daughter of the
First Twilight Star and the Bobcat.
The Child of a Blue Norther
That picked up the Red Dirt and carried
It to the rich
Soil south
Her
All those goddamned songs. All of them. Brandy was a fine girl. Do you remember that son of a bitch who went to Boston for the springtime and kept on going? Yeah, I was gentle on your mind. Sitting here watching the dust settle after you had imprinted me on your brain like a well worn postcard, something to look at now and again. To remind you of the kind of woman who made no demands on you, while you lay next to the ones who did. Do you think I’m supposed to feel bad for Bessie or Big Momma? I can’t decide which. Maybe neither of them wanted him around all that much.
Him
I was no good for you. I let you go. Set you free. Set us both free. Set us all free of who I would become if I stayed. You didn’t try to stop me. You just stood out on that porch and watched me drive off. I remember the dead expression, and the white dress with yellow flowers. Bare feet and wayward brown hair. But your eyes. Good Lord, you could put a chill on a hundred degree day.
Read More