The opposite of Olivia
is a name that falls
from a grandmother’s lips,
a name that floats
across a field of wildflowers.
But you’re not listening, are you?
never listen to Livvy
She’s harmless you assure yourself,
married to a dead-eyed man
with hair growing out of his ears.
Offspring like a litter of puppies.
Little brats, all of ‘em.
Not that Livvy notices.
She’s too busy tatting her own doilies,
Shocked by coarse language
such talk, such talk
comfortable with blood.
Chicken blood, beef blood.
Blood pudding.
She doesn’t like new things.
Her towels all match,
curtains made of gingham.
There’s no evidence she ever uses the toilet.
Her hair is always up.
Ham on Sundays.
And let me tell you,
She’ll shoot you if you take one more step
Onto her front porch.
are you listening to me?
I’m not kidding here.
she will
blow
your shit
away
She’s already thinking ahead
To supper on a tray table
in front of the teevee.
Don’t care for new-fangled ideas,
just you
that Olivia, bless her heart.
just try it
Doesn’t like new things.
Grows the biggest tomatoes
this side of the river.
Did I mention she tats her own doilies?
is a name that falls
from a grandmother’s lips,
a name that floats
across a field of wildflowers.
But you’re not listening, are you?
never listen to Livvy
She’s harmless you assure yourself,
married to a dead-eyed man
with hair growing out of his ears.
Offspring like a litter of puppies.
Little brats, all of ‘em.
Not that Livvy notices.
She’s too busy tatting her own doilies,
Shocked by coarse language
such talk, such talk
comfortable with blood.
Chicken blood, beef blood.
Blood pudding.
She doesn’t like new things.
Her towels all match,
curtains made of gingham.
There’s no evidence she ever uses the toilet.
Her hair is always up.
Ham on Sundays.
And let me tell you,
She’ll shoot you if you take one more step
Onto her front porch.
are you listening to me?
I’m not kidding here.
she will
blow
your shit
away
She’s already thinking ahead
To supper on a tray table
in front of the teevee.
Don’t care for new-fangled ideas,
just you
that Olivia, bless her heart.
just try it
Doesn’t like new things.
Grows the biggest tomatoes
this side of the river.
Did I mention she tats her own doilies?
3 comments:
I wandered over from angie's blog.
It's been a long loooooong time since I've read a poem online that I love.
I love this one. LOVE it.
Thanks, I really, needed that!
Thank you, dink!
I never know what to think about my poems. I read poetry, and I studied in school, but for some reason I just have no sense of surety about what constitutes good, bad, or indifferent. I appreciate hearing that this little tidbit meant something to you!
Bill, I didn't realize you were a poet! This is terrific. Are you the man with hair in his ears? I did notice a certain deadness in your eyes. :)
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