Tuesday, March 29, 2011

So... Are You Going to the Dance?

                                                    "Becky," a Ciara Shuttleworth painting



So... Are You Going to the Dance?

The Christmas barn
invites no second coming.
The polar-loud wind
bawls like a calf
dead since great grandpa's
blizzard of 1888.
The scarlet barn
in moonlight:
death on a coin flip.

In the population-300 town,
the postmaster,
a baseball would-be-gloveslick
three wars ago,
sits beside his brother's
hospital bed,
hellish brain clot,
puzzled by a floral-blue
uplift bra atop
a blink-'n'-bleep machine.

When it rains,
the small school
stinks of bacon,
oatmeal,
government-issued
powdered eggs.

A scrawny girl,
in a sweat suit
and cowgirl boots,
hangs prom banners,
dreams of becoming
an unsentimental
screech owl.

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