The Thing To Do In Tuscaloosa Is
Dream about walking back and forth
across the tracks twice a day.
The cautionary arm
lifting and lowering. The
bells in sunlight
There is dumping a can
of creamed corn into
water to excite the fish, then
baiting your hooks with corn.
The stars are verbs in the waters that watch them
There is dipping, where too little will make
you swallowgag and vomit. Where more
is preferable. The man at the party
demonstrates the right pinch and folding
it under the lip. There are slivers of glass
in dip, meant to slice open the gums so
the tobacco gets in faster. He says it is like
a hundred cigarettes. You will,
he says, drool.
There is fishing
the moon making little flowers in it, names with long vowels.
There is quitting
There is something called noodling in which
you let a catfish slide its cold mouth
over your knuckles and grab.
There is swimming
and there are snakes.
The magnolias will insist that they are also moons, if your definition is something bright
My lovely friend Sarah sent me that poem. She really has an eye for beautiful words. She also has a gift of her own in tangling words together in a way that make your heart go, "Yes!!" I know one day I will own quite a few of her collections and, they will sit on my bookshelf next to the works of Bukowski, Atwood, The Dickman Brothers, and all the other great poets that we both admire.
|How odd, me whispering a secret into Sarah's ear. Wait, I always tell her my secrets!|