re-writtenA Poem by h d e rushinDear Donna: in response to the letter I received in 06, the part where you thought I was already married, well, I am ashamed to say, I had and it was an emergency. But I realized that the way a person speaks and writes their name means everything to eternity. But what of Grandpa who couldn't write his name? Can that possibly mean that he is not in heaven with his gold tooth like the preacher intimated? Or that somehow he isn't moving his plowshares from hill to hole again like a giant Negro ant? Well, that part may have been made up also. But I've lived alone in the house where we were barefoot as kids and the clicking noise in the wall of the downstairs bedroom has finally followed me upstairs like an angry cat. And by now you think that that old, faded Simmons Beautyrest mattress is a freezing barrier between bed-wetting and sordid sex. And the more I see the zinc whiteness of another passing moon, i'll be mad now. Or that living with one breast is not the same as living without a testicle. Without a breast the bodice stamps down the little black dress of your dreams with no great bean bag to remove. Just like the "great flood" that that same confectioners God of yours refused to un-leash. sincerely, dana. © 2015 h d e rushinReviews
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3 Reviews Added on July 6, 2015 Last Updated on July 6, 2015 |

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