Sweetheart of the Hickory Bark
After Gram Parsons

by January 29, 2014 0 comments

Climbing the crotch of old shagbarks
xxxxxxas the memories of you rubbed raw
the Carolina winds of a troubled first kiss
xxxxxxpretending to be a far heart,
xxxxxxachingxxxxxxfrom the aftermath
of moonshine as it
feels better each time
the yellow catkins fall lonesome.
Tongueless hunger crawls out
from those days like a mourning fog
sunk into the greatness of
xxxxxxbeing eaten by this year’s
mosquitoes around the cooking fire.

editors note:

Mountain man mourns last year’s love with moonshine and mosquitoes. – mh

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