Up South

by C.B. Anderson

The promise of a better night ahead
is all I've got to keep myself afloat.
The morning after leaves my mouth a dead
zone, dry as sawdust, like the sand a boat
is stranded on until the next high tide.
We had some drinks and then began to paw
each other, letting passion override
our caution, as it's done in Arkansas.

The trouble was that this is Tennessee,
where whiskey flows from fields of corn. I guess
I shouldn't blame the old distillery
for headache or the fetor and the mess:
the razorbacks down there are proper hogs --
up here, the volunteers are sloppy dogs.

© 2009 by C.B. Anderson




About the Author

C.B. Anderson was the longtime gardener for the PBS television series, The Victory Garden. Many scores of his poems have appeared in dozens of print and electronic journals. His e-chapbook, A Walk in the Dark, can be read on the website of The New Formalist Press.


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