Did you know I could sing?
Six note range,
Slightly off-key
Not my mother's celloing alto
or my cousin's sweetsonged soprano
A voice more suited for campfire or shower,
silly rhyme songs
crooned til the neighborhood kids
grabbed bellies and roared
Was it a lifetime ago
that I struck operatic pose,
bellowed out Carmen to husband,
shaking head in amazement
at this crazy woman he'd wed
I didn't sing on my bike.
Too many flies.
There are other confessions
yet to be sung.
I still miss.....
my father's Silver Queen corn,
fresh from the garden,
snacking on fried green tomatoes
cold Carolina nights
Country roads circling my hometown,
pines, pastures, and white country churches
baled hay
horses, and cows
healthy and left to run free
Sweet smelling flowers
bright muumuu dresses
soft strumming of ukes
Aloha Days in Hawaii.
Isle of Shoals overnights
watching the sun die,
stars born from its death.
luminescents clinging to anchor
down the dark deep
These confessions, my legacy
carve them into stone
Let the granite sing for me
when my own song is gone.
Pris Campbell
Copyright 9/14/1997
(revised 8/29/2001)
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