Moon in the Holler, poetry by Gina Williams

A full moon is following me home. In the rearview mirror, it winks at me, an evil clown,
a psycho killer. Biggest in a hundred years. Old preacher says it’s a sign, predicts
earthquakes and insanity, says God and the moon are in cahoots to make us pay. Why
stop there? Let’s blame it for every little thing. Like fat kids, mean people, rheumatism,
annoying relatives, bad breath, broken pipes, toe jam, moldy bread. Mean, annoying
relatives with gum disease, rheumatism, bad breath, fat kids, broken pipes and toe jam
who serve moldy bread. Made me do it, made me kill my whole family, toppled the
house of cards, burst the artery that flooded the basement that gave me a wart that killed
the pig that gave me worms that stunted my growth. It’s not just for werewolves
anymore, so go ahead and get a slice of moon pie for yourself, while you have the
chance. Everybody’s doing it and it tastes like chicken. Gun the engine, skidding on the
gravel road, skeleton branches scraping the hood, deep into the thick pine woods where
the moon don’t shine, won’t follow, can’t be blamed for anything.

 

Gina Williams  lives and writes in the Pacific Northwest. She enjoys poetry, fiction and photography. She is a perpetual student, working towards a degree in Rough Arts from Life University. Writing, she has found, makes it possible for her to breathe.
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One Response to Moon in the Holler, poetry by Gina Williams

  1. ginabobina says:

    Thank you, Rusty! I real­ly appre­ci­ate the oppor­tu­ni­ty to share my work here.

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