wet sniffles thru smudged rose blush
she finds her face in her hands
blowing smoke from her refry stinks
up the city, stealing sobs and bitcheries
but they still don’t make any mace for stats
and for that
she doesn’t weep
but she cries,
cries,
cries.
referring to older allusions
she holds steady to any yesters
so many “i told you so’s” driven home
make you pull like a mule, like a mule, like a mule
but they still don’t make white-out for old chats
and for that
she wouldn’t care
but she cries,
cries,
cries.
so barren as the pantry has been
she’s seen bourbon street and sixth street
so stupid, horny, drunk and doled
and every shade of maybelline
sometimes big papa has to trim the fat
and for that
she smacks her ass
but she cries,
cries,
cries.
down Riverside
she doesn’t want to see how
the moon’s alone these nights
that vexing chalk-white glare
Jan 13, 2012
limping alone
About This Poem
Last Few Words: METER WORKSHOP. older piece redigified and ineditable.
Review Request Direction: What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
Dear t_f
Your title caught my eye! and the structure intrigued me, I found it pleasing to the eye. I liked the rhythm but can you tell me what you meant by {refry} in this sentence: blowing smoke from her refry stinks
did you mean, refer?
My favorite lines are:
down Riverside
she doesn’t want to see how
the moon’s alone these nights
that vexing chalk-white glare
this would make excellent lyrics!
always, Cat
a refry is...
a used cigarette relit. they don't often smell very good.
ohhh nasty...
Thanks!
always, Cat