SUE LITTLETON : Family Heirloom
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Family Heirloom It Don't Add Up The Washout  
POETRY requires a mature audience ENTER only if you are 18+ <18Big Fish

Family Heirloom 
  Nancy Crockett was eleven when she got the typhoid -- tucked the grave's green blanket neatly around herself, and went to sleep beneath her tombstone. She had named her doll – who knows? but as the doll drifted down through the family she became Nancy 's namesake.   A hundred years later my maiden aunt and I would unwrap Nancy from her lime velvet winding cloth, once a splendid 1920's tea gown, smooth the dull shattered silk of her dress, the dark human hair framing the insane little face – for, if a doll could be mad, Nancy was raving. Eleven inches from round head to pointy shoes painted on her feet, kid-glove hands with sewn flat fingers, hard rag body with unbendable legs– Nancy's black glass-bead eyes glared malevolently at us over crackled wax cheeks – which is why most of the time she was confined to a drawer.   When she finally came to me, I dressed her in yellow-sprigged navy calico and put her on display. But those wicked little eyes unnerved visitors, who unanimously advised me to find her another home (but not one volunteered to adopt her!) Nancy made you think of effigies, poppets, unpleasant, hooked-nosed old ladies out to test the evening air on a fast broomstick   I returned her to another drawer, whence she emerges on occasion to glower unrepentantly until I feel those jet eyes at my back and decide it's time for her to retire once more from view. And yet ... uncomfortable as she may be as a companion, I am fond of her.  In the balance, Nancy is family.
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I have many things to write unto you but   I will not write with pen and ink
--JOHN the theologian


Family Heirloom It Don't Add Up The Washout  
POETRY requires a mature audience ENTER only if you are 18+ <18Big Fish

It Don't Add Up
I'm no mathematician, but I got the sense to know when two plus two equals three, somebody is all mixed up. Like the time we bought nine watermelons from the watermelon man and he had to scratch his head and lean down and scratch the dirt to come up with the wrong answer for nine times two dollars and fifty cents. When he said, "That'll be twenty-seven fifty", I knew something was terribly wrong. I got enough sense to know something else too. Here in our fair state of Louisiana, they say we don't have any worthwhile targets for biological terrorist attacks. (that's what the state police man said, can you believe that? Right there on television, in front of God and everybody.) Well, if we don't have any worthwhile targets, why are they riding the state epidemiologist all around the state, telling the doctors what to do in the unlikely event of a biological terrorist attack? Somethin' don't add up, I tell you. What are we gonna do? Something is terribly wrong. I tell you.
Poetry endangers the established order  of the soul - Plato


Family Heirloom It Don't Add Up The Washout  
POETRY requires a mature audience ENTER only if you are 18+ <18Big Fish

The Washout
1. An Open Wound On the edge of the creekbed washout lay the carcassed head of a horse. On the dried blood of the stump of her neck on her white blazed nose in her nostrils on her tongue in her ears on her eyes thousands of white segmented maggots wormed one over another greedily searching still fresh meat. Black flies, blue flies, yellow jackets dove in the white heat of day to feast their small buzzing bodies on the blazed head.
2. Blaze two days earlier had again walked on the porch of the cabin, her head and forefeet in the door, snorting her presence. I held my young son in my arms as he held the carrots Blaze ate. We patted, she nuzzled. Today flies lay their eggs as yellow jackets suck her honeyed head. Eighteen years later a new neighbor fetches her water from the Spring in Blaze's washout.
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Family Heirloom It Don't Add Up The Washout
Family Heirloom TOP  Family Heirloom ©  SUE LITTLETON  .comment1
It Don't Add Up MID   It Don't Add Up ©  DYAN SANDEFER,  .comment2
The Washout] BTM  The Washout ©  ABIGAIL B. CALKIN  .comment3 free counters
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