between Knoxville and Nashville
a poetic claw in my heart
like the tip of the brine-sopped rock
I climbed
seeking not the tenderest avenue
nor the thunderest
ceilingless
here
in a place called The Bean Pot
Dad called
he wanted me to stay with him
for my grandmother
I buy the blackest jacket
the Appalachians are peaceful
and movingly eventful
I feel very scruffy and I have to pee
(there is nothing left to scratch)
puke until you forget your country
