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Up
South
by
C.B. Anderson
The promise of
a better night
ahead
is all I've got
to keep myself
afloat.
The morning after
leaves my mouth
a dead
zone, dry as sawdust,
like the sand
a boat
is stranded on
until the next
high tide.
We had some drinks
and then began
to paw
each other, letting
passion override
our caution, as
it's done in Arkansas.
The trouble was
that this is Tennessee,
where whiskey
flows from fields
of corn. I guess
I shouldn't blame
the old distillery
for headache or
the fetor and
the mess:
the razorbacks
down there are
proper hogs --
up here, the volunteers
are sloppy dogs.
©
2009 by C.B. Anderson
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About the Author
C.B.
Anderson
was the longtime
gardener for the
PBS television
series, The Victory
Garden. Many scores
of his poems have
appeared in dozens
of print and electronic
journals. His
e-chapbook, A
Walk in the Dark,
can be read on
the website of
The New Formalist
Press. |
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