(no subject)
So, Tuesday was the last day of my Prose Poetry class. I tell ya, it was a learning experience. For instance, I learned that graduate creative writing students are crazy AND pretentious. Every time, my prose poem was too commercial, too light, too blase. Well, our last poem was supposed to be absurd a la Russell Edson. And I showed 'em.
the poem itself is a little too much for facebook. So, I'm putting it here!
Grandma
Grandmother Beatrice came back from the dead today. It has only been three days since we put her down, but still mother smiled and cried and had father carry her inside because the rigor mortis still hadn't quite worn off.
She slept in my room because father had already relocated the elliptical machine into hers and it was a Pain in the Ass to Move. My room smells like dirt and peppermint now, but I don't mind too much because she lets me have the top bunk.
After a few days, mother tells grandmother that she had to get out more. Some of her old friends had come back recently, and some fresh air would Do Them All Some Good. Then, mom got to work taking the mold out of the couch.
A week has past, and pieces of grandmother are getting all over the place. I had to rescue her pinkie finger from the cat, and we still haven't found her left eye. Mother and father have been going out more often, so we play pinochle until it's time to squeeze out the bloat.
And week, and mother says it's time for grandmother to go home; her skin won't keep her together much longer. We walk her to the cemetery; and after father lays her into the ground, we put up a big headstone on top this time. You see, once you hit bones, she just isn't grandma anymore.
aheh.
the poem itself is a little too much for facebook. So, I'm putting it here!
Grandma
Grandmother Beatrice came back from the dead today. It has only been three days since we put her down, but still mother smiled and cried and had father carry her inside because the rigor mortis still hadn't quite worn off.
She slept in my room because father had already relocated the elliptical machine into hers and it was a Pain in the Ass to Move. My room smells like dirt and peppermint now, but I don't mind too much because she lets me have the top bunk.
After a few days, mother tells grandmother that she had to get out more. Some of her old friends had come back recently, and some fresh air would Do Them All Some Good. Then, mom got to work taking the mold out of the couch.
A week has past, and pieces of grandmother are getting all over the place. I had to rescue her pinkie finger from the cat, and we still haven't found her left eye. Mother and father have been going out more often, so we play pinochle until it's time to squeeze out the bloat.
And week, and mother says it's time for grandmother to go home; her skin won't keep her together much longer. We walk her to the cemetery; and after father lays her into the ground, we put up a big headstone on top this time. You see, once you hit bones, she just isn't grandma anymore.
aheh.