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Dawn Richerson

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This Ain't No Family Picnic
by Dawn Richerson

Tuesday, October 08, 2002

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Recent poems by Dawn Richerson
•  I Should Have Liked to Have Been Invited
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Smell of fertile brown
indecision
permeates everything
in the room, soaks into our
veins and breeds contempt.

Like flies you, who are
familiar with
family drama and
acrimonious actors,
swarm relentlessly.

Curiosity,
rancid, draws you
here. Heartbreak spreads like
fungi in a Petri dish
left too long alone

We all reek of pain,
vague remembrance
of happy days we
created in our minds to
soothe another’s soul.

Now that truth be told
stench of our lies
pits brother against
brother, fighting for the door.
Flight or fight? They flee.

Sick from the smell,
still I sit in
this shit, debating
pathways to heaven, to hell.
Moving not, I rot.


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Reviewed by Aamie Burnley 10/8/2002
... an intense picture of disfunction, wonderfully written!
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