Where we shoveled coal into the furnace was an inconsiderable door. Behind it held ***** chubby cherubs with cherry tomato noses, whose job it was to keep the fires of our parent's liquor cabinets full. This they did to keep them from constantly beating us, but the happy distraction did not always work. So, we would pluckily go. Go to the scuzzy pond at dusk with kerosine lanterns and listen for croaks. We tied forks to the ends of canes or stakes and would gig bullfrogs for dinner. It became only momentarily mortifying, but was always a choice way of ridding our sisters and other clingy girls of our company. We'd fry the legs in cornstarch and pepper flakes and be allowed to share with the adults their beer if it was a good catch. Usually, it was. Most of forever we waited for teaberry season, always the best time of the year. Though it was hotter than Beelzebub's bath water we'd go swimming in that **** pond to reach our favorite teaberry patches. This ensured our riches and fame throughout our Appalachian village. Everyone would eat teaberry ice cream and sing our names and no one beat us on those days.

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My mother isnt there

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only fathers, brothers, uncles, washing public

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village pig is in my stomach

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Ralarlar Village I am

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I stumble to the cook haus (kitchen)

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Bubu Tami and Bubu Peni ( grandmother Tami, grandfather Peni)

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half a teaspoon of salt, half a teaspoon of sugar

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kerosine and flicker follow

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forest and twilight, unfamiliar

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heshen bag, dirt, hole, diarrhea

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she whistles softly, kicking earth

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The sound of you are not alone

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never felt so at home

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photo, me as baby and her sitting on the floor

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never will another cushion

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I wept at the airport after only 5 days

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Years later when she passes

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she visits me behind my eyes

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another year passes, a disguise

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Tami born in Melbourne niece, surprise

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A moment living, never dies

A woman heard a small girls cries. Alone, without her own mothers eyes.