Montgomery, George

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SUPPLIES FOR THE HUNTING LODGEErnest is polishing his gun while the jam is on the table wooden and swollen with memories. Empty quart bottles to go back to the grocer and he will not question us until we leave.The jam is on the table and the jar is half full. The beer is all gone but there is some wine good and brave white.POEM FROM ATOP A PURPLE HORSEi can certainly go to Atlanta without going to Plains.The Pecan lady will open her door and we will sit by the fireplace.So nice her white pleated skirtwinter night a couple miles from Peachtree St.The iron gate around her house,missing is the black boy holding the lantern.Knowing the Pecan lady,the black boy is most likely hidingin the garage.i sit with an empty gobletthe purple couch uncomfortablewhile she is on a chair across from me.Maybe in an hour the ice will be broken and enough drink will stir us together. Floating for a second in the air her peasant blouse.Missing is the black boy holding the lantern. He is for another time.—  George Montgomery Rosendale NY133

Poem from Atop a Purple Horse

http://ddd.uab.cat/pub/wormwood/wormwood_a1978v18n4i72/wormwood_a1978v18n4i72p133.pdf

Poem from Atop a Purple Horse

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