top of page

Poem #29

Hill of Beans

The doughnut shop isn’t up to code; danger makes a delicious dish. Here, hello is flash-fried catfish.

Go ahead, eat up, hushpuppy. When we leave our fruit trunk side, a woman in the far right lane does all she can to tell us. When we walk the dog after dark and take a photo of the moon peeking up above a steeple to tickle orgiastic sheets of stained glass, some man across the street asks, Y’all from around here? We were, a long time ago. The dog pulls on his leash. He points behind us, says, That’s a black church. Disappears up the street. He isn’t much older than my brother.


#Poetry #writer #poet #poem #Writing

0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Striped I fell from a dock in the summer, split my hand open like a ripened fig, blood drip-dropping to ruddy the waves while I gulped down salty red, I swam to shore, hand raised above my head, looki

This year has already been so busy. Marriage. Grad School. Research Project. Promotion. And now, at last, I can put my dream on that list: Novel Publication. That’s right, ladies and gentlethems, my n

bottom of page