Suzanne Rancourt

(Maine / United States)

Whose Mouth Do I Speak With - Poem by Suzanne Rancourt

I can remember my father bringing home spruce gum.
He worked in the woods and filled his pockets
with golden chunks of pitch.
For his children
he provided this special sacrament
and we'd gather at this feet, around his legs,
bumping his lunchbox, and his empty thermos rattled inside.
Our skin would stick to Daddy's gluey clothing
and we'd smell like Mumma's Pine Sol.
We had no money for store bought gum
but that's all right.
The spruce gum
was so close to chewing amber
as though in our mouths we held the eyes of Coyote
and how many other children had fathers
that placed on their innocent, anxious tongue
the blood of tree?

Topic(s) of this poem: father


Comments about Whose Mouth Do I Speak With by Suzanne Rancourt

  • Suburban Lovechild (3/3/2015 3:22:00 PM)


    Suzanne, great job, I can picture your father, you and i assume your siblings, anxiously awaiting that magical taste, such imagery, keep writing and sharing....please check out my poems, I'd appreciate it... (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, March 3, 2015



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