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The Watering Hole

Bonita Lee Penn

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bonita by TSE1

 “Boxing Ring: Sons of Mother”

 Her secrets, buried, under decayed carnage

Ways family holds secrets: secured
Like wax sealed envelopes, silenced
Swallow breaths, inhales hold forever
Never turns blue, nor faints, like fall
Leaves, pressed in Bible: family evidence
Tattered seeds released, free to sprout
Grand in sisters, short lived brothers
Who fought jealously, covert genes
Rooted, buried deep in dirt. Dirt covered
Knees, knuckles wet in red and sweat
One tanned under summer sun, he cool,
Cigarette dangled from thin lips- other
Roasted tied to family life, this beautiful
Confusion, this Mother’s favorite drink
Father’s prayers: A-men. Family of men
Played confused hearts, buried like
Skeletons in sand, awake windswept
Way stations, emotionally scared, then
Explode like grenades, no safe haven
Binary confusions crossed, lines, ravens
Filled flooded blood lines, crunch bones
Fists raised, then lowered, closed eyes
Caved chest. Children cried, tears
Apart, like wooden and steel she
Stood silent to their grenades flung
Like sweat leaping from skin punched
Sons’ mother danced drunk in bondage

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