Sharing with The Sunday Muse #202 in memory of my grandmother and her dedication to family vacations (and her determination to make sure we behaved The Entire Time).
Remember the pool, the cigarette smell
After the highway's Cadillac swell
turn bone, turn bone, turn bone
split second, split air, sharp thrown
turn bone, turn bone, turn bone
Paper-hatted glasses, lights' yellow bloat;
Recall carbonation's knife at the throat
turn bone, turn bone, turn bone
split second, split air, sharp thrown
turn bone, turn bone, turn bone
A wasp on a tissue, a sting to the knuckle
Vacations gone in a rueful chuckle
turn bone, turn bone, turn bone
split second, split air, sharp thrown
turn bone, turn bone, turn bone
Once again the photo on a dim hotel wall
In an album left in the dark of the hall.
turn bone, turn bone, turn bone
split second, split air, sharp thrown
turn bone, turn bone, turn bone
Grandma sounds like she was fun and feisty.
ReplyDeleteInteresting. The sting of the wasp i'm sure was no fun but the chuckle would have eased the situation.
ReplyDeleteHappy you dropped by my blog Chrissa
Much love
Wonderful memories with an amazing grandmother! I love the repetition and strength this poem holds as did your precious grandmother. Thank you for sharing this my friend!
ReplyDeleteI like the rhythm in this poem, memories alternating with a rhythmic chorus. I think there is an interesting story behind this poem that would make a great vignette or memoir piece. My kid's grandma - my mom - was a large character too. I relate to the smell of cigarettes. In her case, she drove an LTD. My kids loved it when she pulled up out front.
ReplyDeleteI LOVE this … it cries out to be heard, read aloud, over and over.
ReplyDeleteOooh! Oooh! This is amazing. Turn bone turn bone turn bone! Wow! I honestly tried to find the same kind of knife spinning rhythm tattoo pattern but completely failed. Yours just stabbed it. Bravo!!!
ReplyDeleteLove that refrain, Chrissa!
ReplyDelete