Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Confession #1

Confession #1

There is the limp lack.
There is the slumped back
slick with sin, the sin
that did her in.

That water runnin'
up her pump. Ditch-dark
piss-poor water jumpin'
like a sparked electric

outlet. Don't put
that fork in her
open holes.
Listen, you want

your sins in a basket
like dirty whites, marks
that bleach brings back.
Bleach cleans. Bleach

that poignant
little nettle
and let syrupy goodness
bring you back.

--Janann Dawkins' work has appeared in publications such as decomP, Existere, Mezzo Cammin, Ouroboros Review & Two Review, among others. Leadfoot Press published her chapbook Micropleasure in 2008. A graduate of Grinnell College with a B.A. in American Studies & twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize, she resides in Ann Arbor, MI.


Marie J. Burns said...

I loved the alliteration and clever rhyme of this piece that made me feel like I had tourettes. In all seriousness, it was like Helen Keller on drugs.

David Tomaloff said...

I'm really liking this whole series. The rhythm is so infectiously intuitive.

On a side note, who wouldn't love Marie's comment attached to one of his/her poems? Well said!