SARAH JANE PASSED THROUGH


When Sarah Jane was three,
she saw a camel in a cloud and a horse in a rock;
and when she told her mother, Mommy said
"Don't be silly. Rocks are rocks and clouds are clouds."
(and thinking of Emily, went back to feeding Baby Alice.)

When Sarah Jane was five,
she went to kindergarten dressed in her sister Dora's dress
which had been preworn by her sister Clara
and Bobby Mills pinched her and made her cry,
calling her white trash and saying she smelled.
(Only Sarah's socks and underwear were new.)

When Sarah Jane was nine,
Bobby offered her a quarter
to go under the bleachers and lift her dress;
when she said no, he told Tommy she wanted a dollar;
and when she told her mommy,
her daddy belted her for leading the boys on
(and saying he was sorry, comforted her later that night.)

when Sarah Jane was fourteen,
Bobby asked her to the homecoming dance;
but her mother said she was too young
and her sisters wouldn't let her wear their old dresses.
instead Bobby took Mary Ann Witherspoon
from over at the trailer park.
(while Sarah Jane sat on her bed
and wrote in her special book.)

when Sarah Jane was eighteen,
she married Bobby Mills
and they moved in with his stepmother,
next to Mary Ann's parents in the trailer park
(and her momma cried for her baby Alice and losing Emily.)

when Sarah Jane was nearly twenty
and expecting Little Donna's sister
they buried her in a cardboard casket
Bobby smashed her head for asking him
why he was out all night with Mary Ann Nelson
(and Alice's mother buried the special book with her)

When Donna was three years old..





On the Way to Buy Milk

They no longer put asbestos
in brake shoes
and the damn things won't hold,
so as I go careening
down Taylortown's Mile Hill,
will my last thought be
"You can't win the game"
or of Angie's baked fruit surprise,
which she brings to every holiday dinner
although her sister Ona
whispers it's cooked
with refrozen cantaloupe,
and even defrocked cousin Sylvia
tells her lover, the monk, it tastes
of soured cream and sawdust,
while considering dumping the lout
because he wrapped her last gift
in a Wal-Mart bag,
or of Uncle Frank gesturing
like six drunken Germans
arguing over whether rabbit stew
is best served with Lager or Bock
when he's hit in the butt
from a perfect shot
fired by Aunt Evena's little Tommy
(Who believes "You can't lose the game.")
from his trusty pea-shooter,
or of the easy days under the weeping willow
when I took off your boots
and suckled your toes,
before you removed my belt
and ran your fingernails
over my inner thighs
under the lazy summer sun
and mellow autumn haze,
but knowing I will really think
"You can't break even."
before I hit the brick wall
of Nelson's Pure Farm Dairy
at the bottom of Mile Hill.

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© Gary Blankenship


Gary Blankenship is a retired manager whose new avocation is writing prose and poetry. His work has appeared on Writer's Hood, Clean Sheets, and Electric Wine. He spends too much time in workshops, but considers them his classroom. He is acting as an editor for WDS Writer's Block (sans pay). Click HERE to visit his home page.