Poem: 10-72

The Childhood of Joan of Arc- Brain Dumont. 

10-72

Stand alone "10-4" that sounds subhuman

Prisoner

On his way to county jail

I listen in, salivating, here comes a story

North Carolina born and bred.

I googled police scanner

I love gossip-that’s why me and Mrs. G got along.

She loved to dance and laughed like a teenager all pretty

Talmin’ about pastor seeing her dance on a phone screen

I remember those gooey lights, misty eyed from the humidity

the girls around me

I'm in the 70’s. Bubble pink dairy bar ice cream

Kid like happy

Misty eyed again, drifting into dreamtime

My camper asks me something

But I just have to smile

You just have to live it kid

Ouch, the tree is HURTING ME.

But not on purpose…

My body is clever

I am not in danger any more so I can put myself in danger

My trauma closes up like a dying buttercup

And sails off to sea, another quest, another journey.

I climb things now dad.