Southern Comfort Poem by Dorsey Baker
Southern Comfort
She has a room
below and behind the stairs
the stairs that lead to a wooden door
she waits for the doorbell to ring
she hears the sound of footsteps
she is fragile and small
she wears a nice necklace
she takes a sip of whiskey
from a smokey looking glass
she will hide her discomfort
with a show of calm
she walks over to the table
and blows the candle out
its time to give another performance!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/4/2024 2:35:37 PM # 1.0.0.1119
