Forks of Ivy

Rum and Robots

Poem a piece of who I am by Joni K. Caggiano (also referred lovingly to by her mother as “Josie Karen”
Photo byAfifi ZulkifleonUnsplash

within the choices, the ivy threads through the
patterned, worn, and tattered pieces of my youth
its blood a mixture of punctures that weave circles of
skin and bone into forgotten stories
tucked in corners where candy corn and ice-cream drips dried,
flying into dust devils

along a path of smiles without corners with a cigarette
hanging like a tired aching pig-tail
apple pie reaching forward to grab a knife to cut out stars
sailing on the hook of the half-moon
smells traveling to the old willow oak as sap drips
absorbing the smell within her bark

longer fork, which is like parchment paper under hand-made
buttermilk biscuits
hair falling below her hip-less figure and still
developing breast, the color of cream
her…

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