Page 14 - Contrast1990

Camels and Wild Turkey
by Alisa Rock

Ghosts flickered on the screen,
Jimmy and Ron battling-
the cold November wind banging
the few small, dark windowpanes.

Nana sat cornered and smoked her Camels
and drank her usual.
Her red hair, dulled by streaks of grey,
gnarled into a bun.

A heater burned into action, drying
eyes and noses. The claws
of the sofa dug into my leg
tattooing its image as I sat.

Nana and I bickered.
I was ten
and she was seventy;
we both knew everything.
"Where did that sweet little girl,
who climbed into my lap, go?"
My eyes burned, my heart flamed,
my ears became stone.
I rose and twisted the doorknob,
the door rushed inward
and I left.

Nana sat and smoked her Camels
and drank.

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