...and the lime green tile with white grout that was in our kitchen at the old house on Crossglade Avenue. even though it was porous it had a smooth texture. it matched so well with dark green semi-shag carpet in living and dining room.
i let my mind take me where it wanted. the memories that i had long forgotten, brought back to me now. i tried not to linger on any one for a long time, for fear that it would stop the rotation.
click...click...click...
it was like a viewmaster; all these images in my head...
6th grade graduation trip to disneyland. april conroy and i got caught spitting off of the aerial tram onto the people down below. we thought it was so funny. until the ride operator threatened to kick us out of the park, then...we were sweatin' it. thankfully our scrunched up red faces and tears did the trick...
click click
tricker treating on halloween, missy and i got into a fight and she slapped me across the face, what for i don't remember...but i do remember her biting the dust downhill on her bike a few days later and thinking it was funny.
click
i can smell my grandmas house. her faux fireplace just beside the living room. it had a red light inside of it and 3 plastic logs with a switch on the side. the red light made the metallic flames look like real fire. and when you turned it on something inside of it rotated and made a crackling sound as if the logs were actually burning.
i let them overcome me. washing away me sitting on my couch in 2002. i let my thoughts drown me where i sit.
itchy bombs. spiked little balls that fell out of the trees in mass numbers in my neighborhood. we called them "itchy bombs" because when one was thrown at you it forever itched later. we would have itchy bomb fights into the long hours of the night. until the street lights came on, then we all had to go inside.
duke's trans am was parked at the curb of his house. he didn't drive it hardly much anymore since his wife dotty died. he had always been an alcholic but it's serious now. and he stayed inside for the most part. there was an itchy bomb tree in his front yard and the itchy bombs would collect in the gutter by the tires of his car. if you could safely get there, you were set for the rest of the game.
something caught my attention. i had completely forgotten about the book i was reading. suddenly i felt that my leg was alseep and those sharp little pains were all over it.
i looked around the living room...how long had i been in this trance? david was in the next room playing freecell. i could hear the mouse as he clicked on the cards...
click click click
Bring It Up Underneath
scorning the tempest inside this devil void water squeezes penetrating the mantra the dark stain inside the forest raise morning touch dawn drunk on the crimson blood it throbs dark red during it's holy meditation gracing the sacrament chanting laughs seduce the breeze bringing it up, underneath the skin sliding the fever through as a prisoner slides prayers smearing themselves in it whispers to a God of salvation and visions winter convulses a black moon incubates in the sky holy thunder spills acid rain through the window this fever comes burning its hunger greedily purring exploring the once sacred flesh becomes meat for nourishment all ritual is lost to the almighty hungry fever
Listen
i can hear the slit of cutting paper slicing my arms up the side shedding skin to renew this spirit alive within the pews organ notes fall heavy upon the wooden beams holding up the heart still beating after all this time
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Jolee Moffett was raised in an artistic family just outside L.A.. She currently resides in a small town in Indiana with her husband David.
Her work has recently be featured in Anthology Magazine has recently published a chapbook entitled 1352 Leopold Street ..
