Like an apricot
in the mind of a peach
born and bred
in smooth Savannah
on a strict schedule
with no deadlines
a country reflex
gets a city shudder
and just about coughs.

Just a little ahem
used to say ‘ague’
part hold on part agog
part want it part don’t
in the belly in the larynx
an opened-up constriction
are we daunted or un-
blinders off or on
will we cough or hum?

Fear in the throat the mom
takes upon herself the chance
to meet a man all alone
no familiy to tut
no children to chide
just her unsure insides
fighting for control
or loss of same
she coughs and steps forward.

The very first time
this Baptist mother
partook of champagne
their similarity of character
flushed her warm May
over-expressive cheeks
the more she thought about
how Mama might react
the more the gag gathered.

Pulled apart in half
pit exposed and still
clinging to the flesh
a mid-day chill
between eyes and ears
appears unreasonably
cut another one to
examine the color
and just about cough.

Then the earthy fruit
got nibbled and juice
ran down the excuses
its flamboyance rooted in
a distant generation
when romance was picked
off the vine on a walk
far away from the house
where the family stifles.

In a dress selected
carefully for ambiguity
she met him at the bar
of the oldest and most respectable
hotel. Was anyone
who mattered around
within fifteen minutes
she breathed in a gush
of fresh air and blushed.


About mrsorenson

NOT my president
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3 Responses to Throat

  1. thefeatheredsleep says:


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