by Vicki Rogers (my momma)
I started thinking about “Growth” as this month’s topic and several things came to mind: Over the years I have grown in height as illustrated by my 5‘1 frame. I’ve grown in maturity in that I don‘t “moon” people anymore. (With cellulite--it‘s just not charming.) Along with growing long in the teeth, I have grown my credit limit and the amount of hair covering my body. I’ve grown senile and a bit blind (because I can’t remember shite without it being written on a sticky; plus I can‘t read shite without glasses). I have also grown stiff in the joints. According to my colleagues I’ve grown into “bitch” quite nicely (I think my five-year-old granddaughter thinks that too). So I wrote this:
In the garden
I looked into the blinded eye of heaven and heroes.
I whispered into the deaf ear of gods and goofs.
I smelled the honeyed breath of priests and poets.
I licked the twisted fingers of angels and assholes.
I took innocence for a walk and left it
In the sunset
I squint at the cable channel as
I sweat drops onto the table as
I melt ice between my fingers and mingle both as
I flash to hot from cold as
I feel menopause unfold.
I took the innocence from life when
I took my first bite
If you can tell us who the "Original Bitch" is, we’ll send you a Brown Bettie gift. Email email@example.com