Wednesday, April 10, 2013

hw 1 imitation of the aunts by liz snader


The Boys by Elizabeth Snader

I hate it when they all get together
And the chitter chatter they make now
Sounds like dogs hungry for a fat steak.

And maybe they stop and think, “Who are we?”
And go to their friend’s house during mid day
And smoke pot and drink booze and play dumb games.

They will always be the ones to say, ”Yo”
And smoke you a bowl and help you with shit
Even though  we are going our separate ways now.

Although we still find time for Mario Kart
I still try to remember those old days
When we snuck around booze and never told.

Being together again can be strange
-Remembering a time when it was new-
Realizing that those days came and went.

Going back to familiar places now
Can be bittersweet and strange sometimes, now,
Remembering all those things we did then.

All the boys together, causing trouble,
Bringing the rest of us together, still,
Even after four years of being friends.

We can still get together and laugh forever
And smoke and drink and get hyphy forever
And never look back to think of future days

I remember- I remember the times we had
As vibrant as the flame of a lighter
Giving off light and heat for us to use.

Being with them takes me back to those days,
Long and far behind us all- never to leave me-
Loving all the time we have ever had.

The Aunts
I like it when they get together
and talk in voices that sound
like apple trees and grape vines,

and some of them wear hats
and go to Arizona in the winter,
and they all like to play cards.

They will always be the ones
who say “It is time to go now,”
even as we linger at the door,

or stand by the waiting cars, they
remember someone—an uncle we
never knew—and sigh, all

of them together, like wind
in the oak trees behind the farm
where they grew up—a place

I remember—especially
the hen house and the soft
clucking that filled the sunlit yard.
Poem copyright ©2010 by Joyce Sutphen from her most recent book of poetry, First Words, Red Dragonfly Press, 2010. Poem reprinted by permission of Joyce Sutphen and the publisher.


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