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Holly Salvatore Mar 2013
Dewey Dell Bundren
Had her baby
And ran off to college
Worked single-mother hours
To keep her ****** apartment
And never missed a class
She married the first theology professor she could find
The kind
With the horn rimmed glasses
Drinking imported scotch
Discussing literature around the fire at night
She got a degree
At Northeastern
High honors in history
She never knew all those books were about her
And the people she came from
The places
Had their stories told
In the pages
Shaped everything she had ever known
She was grateful
For her history
And once a year made the trip
Back to Jefferson
Mississippi
Put flowers on her mother's grave
Still tasting
the bananas
Hearing herself saying
"Hadn't you ruther"
Still hearing Jewel
Cursing softly
"******* you, ******* you"
"You sweet sonofabitch"
Still seeing the mules
Swollen
Floating
Bellies up
Past Cash and the coffin
Leg broken
In that biblical spring flood
This won't make sense unless you've read As I Lay Dying.
Holly Salvatore Mar 2013
I can hear the war
Being fought through the radio
Somehow it's more
Real now
Unlike anything Americans have fought before
A dark-eyed man
Is crying foreign tears
On a dirt floor
Giving new meaning to dirt poor
Feeling his daughters' faces
Through years of calluses
He's got three little girls
That his failed eyes can't find anymore
The bullet in his forehead
Took his sight
His three little lives
His whole world
And that's probably not the worst
On either side

I'm in a warm bed
Winter in the midwest
Drifting off to foreign correspondence
Thinking
I am out of mascara,
Cheez-its, toilet paper
I need to buy more
And I'm craving Starbucks
Chai tea
Sounds so good right now
The gas in my car
Probably came from an olive-skinned backyard
I'm not doing anything to help
I should move to Canada
Where I'll feel less responsible
For indirectly taking lives
I'm disappointed in myself
For buying new shoes
Enjoying good *****
Taking it for granted
That I got into a good school
I want it to show
Want people to know
That I stand for more
Than my selfish
First world problems
Holly Salvatore Feb 2013
I find cannibalism intriguing
2. Bee stings
3. I haven't heard that speech that every boy needs
           to hear to be a man

4. The love that bottlenecks in your throat when someone dies
5. I have to be heavily medicated
                to enjoy my life
       and it feels like cheating

6. A tube of toothpaste, all squeezed out
7. Raising a second generation in my hometown
                It's this place
         That keeps me down

8. Jack the Ripper shows
               when I'm home alone
9. I've read every Sherlock Holmes
           and I am jones-
       ing for another
                   story to make me think

10. Same God, different names
11. Is language to blame
                  for misunderstandings
           or is it just human failings
Faith is a frail
       old woman
              feeding her 1,000 cats
     1,000 separate bowls of milk

12. The class of 2009
13. When I drive home at night
            I pretend to be someone else
       singing along with the radio

14. Ghosts of friends that walk right through you
15. Maybe the past never really happened?
     Maybe I was someone else back then?
16. Men
            Who leave me and fly off to
             Never never land
      Boys, not men
            Who don't want to grow up yet
            and probably never will

17. Ladybugs
Holly Salvatore Feb 2013
White fang piercing soft muzzle, clumsy paws fumble unsuccessfully.
My baby bit through his lip the other day, but I saved him and he's making a full recovery.
Holly Salvatore Feb 2013
The nation's midsection bloats like a Mississippi fish in the sun.
Holly Salvatore Feb 2013
I take little liberties
with my writing
I say that I'm snowed in
really it's just snow-
ing
I say I'm in love again
really I'm only
dating
I say there were books
The Night She Died
really it was yellow
lamplight, yellow
skin, emaciated
going home
to see her dad again
I take little liberties
in writing
my life's story
so when I tell my
grandkids
all about the life their
grandma led
I can say
truly
poetry brought me clarity,
poetry fixed my memories,
poetry brought
the one that got away
back to me
then let him
run away
a scared little boy,
not a man
again
poetry
(and cooking probably)
made your grandad
a happy man
falling all over me
and all my little liberties
have made my life
more liveable
little liberties
build my story better
they give me
a life
I want to tell
Someone once told me I shouldn't lie in my writing, aaaaaaaaaaaand I don't.
Holly Salvatore Feb 2013
I saw you on TV
specifically
your ***
and I just wanted to say
NICE HUSTLE
Thanks for being talented and good looking and rocking my sunday nights with your crossbow and arm muscles! I'll bake for you anytime.
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