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UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
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NATHAN A. BAKER
The Bootlegger's House Sat back from the paved two lane Road snaking through prime tobacco Fields on either side; asphalt surface Worn, it stretched lonely and gray. With crawlspace exposed the weathered Old house rested on concrete blocks Stacked beneath like tiny Atlas’ each Holding up an equal portion of the weight. Chickens scratched beneath the house Hunting bugs out of the afternoon heat. Dog days and August; sun lapping at the Dry heart of Carolina and daddy’s parched Tongue, so we stopped for tall beer warm in can And with a rusted church key released the gusto. Mama’s Yo-yo She played yo-yo with him for Ten years before her string broke. Then alone she struggled to Feed and clothe her four children She survived and so did the children. But not without scars and raw areas Chaffed from neglect and human want. Rubbed red from insults and abuse And some of us still ride that string Up and down to the ebb and flow of An internal rhythm, which surges in Perfect time to memories sweet haunts Rocking our cradle of recollections spinning endless And still walking this old dog around a troubled world. Nathan is a carpenter/poet living in the mountains of Tennessee. His poetry has appeared at Red River Review, Tamafyhr Mountain Poetry, Lily, Underground Window, Zafusy, and Blue House. |
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© 2007 Underground Voices |
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