WHERE I’M FROM
For George Ella Lyon
I am from porch swings,
Hershey bars and bottles of pop.
From a house of many angles,
high ceilings and slanted floors.
Outhouse lilies, dishwater dahlias,
wanton weeds and gaudy flowers.
I am from greasy suppers and sugar diabetes,
Bryans and Rambos: Romeo and Faye.
From big eaters and bad tempers,
so pitch a hissy when nothing fits.
I’ll give you something to cry about!
and Don’t play with fire or you’ll pee in the bed!
I am from Episcopals and Free Wills,
Presbyterians and Pentecostals,
dinner on the ground and preachers who spit.
From Damascus and St. Paul,
Kentucky-born and Virginia-raised.
The fireplace where my uncle fell –
scars stretch tight now across his back –
and another uncle child who died
years before I was born.
I am from hoarded photos,
shoved in a drawer,
wrinkled young faces
folded against time.
“Where I’m From.” The Bluestone Review (Spring 2007).
