Christal Ann Rice Cooper

Christal Ann Rice Cooper
May Flowers 2017

Tuesday, January 31, 2017

Persona Poem by Chris Rice Cooper: Scarlett O Hara Speaks

Chris Cooper  - 749 Words
Facebook @  Christal Ann Rice Cooper



Scarlett Speaks


Peacock feathers in black hands,
cooling my body
in my fluffy white warm bed,

until . . .
Georgia’s summer rays
cut my heart
of a lost, unreturned love.
To forget Ashley
I’d listen to Papa
because if I didn’t
he’d tell Mother
and Mother would make me
say Hail Mary’s all night long.
I hated Hail Marys
I didn’t hate Mary though.
I think we look a lot a like
except I am the beautiful one, of course.
I remember what Papa said
about the land;
His favorite color red;
insisting I be christened
Scarlett.

Sometimes, the sun shines so bright
that whatever I see burns my eyes.
I go to the back yard
where the skinny crows live in the stripped oak trees

My hands are small shovels,
digging in the mud,
deeper and deeper
the cool wet earth
sleeping beneath my broken fingernails
Soundly
until I’ve grasped the coldest part

I kneel,
my legs bent,
my back folded forward,
my hands covered
with delicious, cold mud.

I forget that damn promise
and eat the dirt.


That’s where all the food comes from, anyway.

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