Monday, April 20, 2009

Catching up: 16&17/30

16/30: Chocolate Bunnies
Georgia eats the face first.
Out of spite, just to be mean, because she can,
she says, sometimes she jokes: so they won't
be able to scream.

Caroline eats the tail.
Because no one else does, says she likes to be
different, jokes that because this way, they cannot
see her coming, says anyway, who doesn't like
a little tail?

Sheri goes for the ears every time.
Says it's the easiest, the most logical, says it's how
everyone else does it; it's mostly because she remembers
being a child, hidden under sheets, pretending she could
not hear her father and mother, wishing she did not have

Maria eats the feet first.
Says it reminds her of the words her mother so often
repeated, encouraging her to "jump in, baby girl,
feet first." It's really because that way they cannot
run off.

There are flatlands in eastern North Carolina,
low and wet, reed-ridden marshes, split by deep creeks,
occasional peaks of land just dry enough to stand on,
mounded up as if by some childlike god.

Just on the edge of one of those mounds stood
a young couple, new-married, the young man
looking out, eyes bright hope beams, said:
"Here it will all be, love, a house on stilts,
a small fishing boat, a life just there, see, with
two healthy sons and a new baby girl, a wraparound
porch, and you can quilt and can, close your eyes."

and all she could see was the water,
rising, devouring the coastline in a
careless yawn, the waves lapping
at her feet, climbing up her sides,
a bridal veil of seaweed,
children born with fins.


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