I figured the time was ripe: I went home.
My father was dead, my mother alone.
She told me stories no one else would know.
My sister took her off to live alone.
I had no business there: My last trip home,
Mississippi headwaters my new home.
. . . that old home gone, polluted with shit stench
of Bar S cattle fattened by Mammon
on their one-way journey to perdition
wrapped behind the counter, beef same-day fresh.
(25 November 2011)
copyright 2011 by Floyce Alexander