Tuesday Morning Poem

From Slight Faith, forthcoming from MoonPath Press. Pre-orders profoundly appreciated. 

Southern Faith

comes to the door
wagging a tale for sweet iced tea, then sways
her hips, serene on the porch swing, sipping
between handfuls of boiled peanuts.

I didn’t invite her here, you know.
But I’m always the obliging one
mimicking Southern slang,
If you don’t feed her, she’s a goner.

I left the South in a flurry
of blunders. Yet here she is
in Seattle, whistling gospel
for anyone with ears.

 

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