the barbed wire
told of a time when
the rhubarb sliced itself
open when it grew so tall
it cut itself on the barbs and
bled its way all the way to the
cellar where you had our pie knives
sheathed in albino deerskin and when
you reached up on the shelf to get our flour
you told me of an amish prayer you once seen
burned onto a wooden fence that brought me to
my knees where I smelled the musk of the old order
and the quaker seeping its heritage channeling your
noonday state of mind
Copyright Ms Sage Sweetwater, Celebrity firebrand lesbian novelist
we also made some rhubarb strawberry preserves
that day..the kitchen still smells so sweet
I like the flour imprints on the table
what a fun hot mess <3
I've got a bit of old order Amish in me so I can relate. Especially to the tangy taste of fresh rhubarb pie. Can't wait to stick my tongue in it. But I have to be careful, I heard that it was poison. ;-)
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that day..the kitchen still smells so sweet
I like the flour imprints on the table
what a fun hot mess <3
I hid a strawberry for you...
Vickie
Ron
Cheers,
Dan