The Innisfree Poetry Journal www.innisfreepoetry.org by Jennifer Juneau I HAVE ALWAYS DEPENDED ON THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS —Tennessee Williams Sister from a vague past, I've come back from farther than that. Let me in and I'll sing to you the funeral blues. Why does your skin sweat so? Is this life at its best? Do you think Your penury gets a rise out of me? Let me cross your threshold Chauffeuring mantles of summer fur, a history. My voice rises above the screech Of a locomotive: I am a revolver Loaded with rhinestones, poems a dead boy wrote. I wear his tight-lipped melody around my conscience And it's my choice if I sing it to you in the dark Till darkness finds my voice. It was one trick After another until they kicked me out of town. Don't frown—I'm here now To smother the bruise on your face with a frozen steak. Your old man's torment hangs in the air about to shriek And when he finds me here the scene won't be pretty. So fetch me a drink and kill the lights. Take a load off sister, this may be a long night. Copyright 2006-2012 by Cook Communication |