Susan Terris: Three Memo Poems
June 4, 2014TW Featured Poet
if I tell you I need an assault rifle to explode watermelons
if I tell you I need an assault rifle to explode watermelons
It is only now that I have begun to understand just how bereft little Lillian must have felt at thirteen, a motherless child.
Sit beside a fire. Drink a goblet of wine. Your soul is restless in your body.
As certain as the rain, disappointments will come, and you will have to live with them and embrace them.
You do need Mom and Dad to fuck you up—or you don’t have much of a story.
I hung in her left eye as if in a fisheye lens.
Compared to these families, maybe my own isn’t so badly off, after all.