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Showing posts from May 17, 2017

Tonight's Poet Corner: Bring It To A Boil

Bring It To A Boil by Belinda Roddie we drank homemade root beer made from the sassafras that your mama grows in Iowa before the summer scorches the bones that make up the ground your mama's recipe that came from her papa when he still cut up roots and wrapped them in paper towels like swaddling a newborn bundle of babies we drank it together molasses and spices molasses and kisses on ceramic mugs we drank it together molasses and spices something tells me your mama wouldn't take kindly to me sitting on your porch, leaving lip tattoos on your neck and chin something tells me your mama would smell the cinnamon on me the soda water and anise on me diluted but rich enough to catch in one nostril or the other all the kisses caught in between mouthfuls she doesn't need to know and the neighbors don't care we'll drink it together molasses and spices sassafras growing in an Iowan heat wave we'll drink it together molasses and

Today's OneWord: Ghosts

Alan wouldn't stay at the Grand Pearl Hotel because he was absolutely certain that there were ghosts haunting it. Specifically, he thought they'd haunt any room he frequented. "They like odd room numbers," he told me over beer, "and I always get rooms with an odd number. I'm not risking staying in Room 217 or Room 425 and getting attacked by hungry ghosts." I stared. "I'm pretty sure ghosts don't eat people." "Then what do they eat, Lorraine? Tacos?!"