Drifter's Dust

Larisa Koshkina

Drifter's Dust 

“Now don’t you fuss little lady” he said holding the bottle

under her nose – soft small arms bound in strips of gauze

“It’s all going be alright” he said giving her his special squeeze

and dropping her with a plop into the wicker trunk in the back

of the pickup as she felt her face fall slack – last thing she

saw was the church tower before the lid closed and the scent

of the green apple he’d cracked with yellow teeth stayed in her

head as the truck moved away to the city in a puff of drifter’s dust 

~

The Sunday Whirl « weekly wordles caption

Fighting the Fuss - Miss Mabley - In the city of Green Apple Dust

George Hodan

Fighting the Fuss  - Miss Mabley  - In the city of Green Apple Dust

In the city of Green Apple Dust* she stood slack 
under the tower panting 
tried to squeeze dry the bolt of her tears, 
slice them to small thin strips -  
let them drift from her fingertips 
lifted onto the wind with the visage

of Billy-Boy’s plop into her porch rocker

let the visage go - 
trailing these filmy strips of

tears over the vast green country side 
as she tried to forget how he had risen 
bottle in hand - turned his back

and slapped down the steps and out of her life

into the sweet rot of green apple dust swirling

the rocker still creaking the way that wicker will

empty

~

The Sunday Whirl « weekly wordles

"the city of green apple dust" is credited to Catherine McGregor

who mentioned such in a Sunday Whirl post and once glanced upon birthed this

poem .... 

Golly Miss Motley

Lynn Greyling

Golly Miss Motley 

Out in the cotton field you trip on an unhoed

row and I seize the moment and catch you

in my arms that seem too skinny for the moment

My legs like jelly – Golly, Miss Motley. I want to celebrate -

to hold this moment on a silver shimmered platter

shining forever in our perfect portion of paired paradise –

I swear, I see you turn and lift your arms around my neck –

but it’s all a half-bake dream, spoiling in the hot sun

as you trip on an unhoed row and I stand stunned in

the flash of your thigh, and like the sixteen-year-old I am,

watch your fall, see you shake off my too-late-offered hand

wait as you walk away, ponytail wagging at me, waving

your contempt stained in acres of cotton forever indelible   

~

The Sunday Whirl « weekly wordles caption

Boys and their donuts

Petr Kratochvil

Boys and their donuts

Hey Miss Motley! - we call out to you inside

"Will you leaves us a platter of them jelly donuts 

lined up like you do in a row like good soldiers. 

Nah, don’t you bother coming up to the window

we’ll all catch you later after we done celebrate

our win - Paradise in a our cotton field-trip

Your powdered sugar stays sweet on our lips

as we sprawl in the sun – and later sugar stunned

stumble home in the setting sun separating one after 

one, each and all of us forgetting as always to swing back on by

~

The Sunday Whirl « weekly wordles