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    A BEAUTIFUL DAY FOR A WALK by Angela Bellegrave
    October 31, 2011  Poetry   Tags:   

    We saw them walking
    hand in hand- the one, slightly
    in front of the other.

    We watched them walking,
    just outside our garden gate,
    past the old Winthrop house,
    where Pine and Filbert

    intersect. We felt
    the crimson tracer tag
    our retina’s. Mark
    us Barska red for –

    Stop, Miss Alba …please…

    Miss Alba, at her window
    box,her M16 cradled on
    her pinched envelope,
    candy – button pink shutters,

    Miss Alba, please you musn’t…
    What about St. Francis?


    took the shots . Elijah
    smiled a dark whirlwind smile,
    as if he had just realized how
    easy it is to slide lips over teeth

    and I pulled on my HAZMAT suit,
    with its bouncy booties
    and oven mits that smelled
    of equine and NH3.

    Went into the shed,
    where Mama used to keep
    he garden tools to nurture
    plump bulbs in the daybeds.

    I buried them up on the Hayden’s Pass
    (a hilltop, that over looked their town)
    along side the other late infected.
    Piled them high with gravestones

    to keep them in their place.

    I think I knew that one- she used to
    sit behind me in Algebra 2…

    I told em’ you can’t go walkin’
    about in the day. I told em’
    they shouldn’t do that in public –
    where God en’ everybody could see.

    Yes – she lent me a pencil sharpener once-
    the size of a silver dollar with a clear domed cap…
    I told em’ the mind plays tricks sometimes.
    That small towns have long memories-

    No – she wasn’t an animal at all.
    She would most certainly go to heaven.
    I watched her head swell and burn
    in a rusty metal can- I told em’ to forget.

    1 Comment

    1. that was a good one i wish i was a good poem writer

      Comment by allison on November 2, 2011 @ 10:42 am

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