LESTERA Poem by jeannemarie coulterjust a tale from my youth LESTER
old man sam had a son, lester, older than my sister and me, large freckles across his nose, a “funny” crooked smile... we were the only kids, except for sam’s baby goats, living within a 15 mile radius, so we spent a lot of time with lester sometimes he terrorized us, sometimes we played, mostly lester caught bugs, all kinds of bugs, lady bugs, potato bugs, pill bugs, and spiders, even those nasty mean biting centipedes... lester examined each captive so carefully, so completely with his sanctified ornately handled magnifying glass, then he killed each one, one slow stab with his hand made consecrated pearl handled straight pin sword... then, with a razor blade scalpel, lester sliced and studied each bug like a forensic pathologist examines a murder victim... after hours of minute inspection lester would bury each segment, each piece, head, heart, leg, in a separate grave in sacred hallowed ground, his personally blessed burial mound beneath an alder tree in the goat pasture while kids played so completely unaware... imagine the deliberate ceremonies required to entomb each leg, of a hapless centipede so carefully skewered and hewed in a separate grave, marking each with a tiny twig cross, a single miniature flower petal to cover every crypt... years later i learned lester had become a very successful psychiatrist... i guess he landed on his feet? © 2015 jeannemarie coulterFeatured Review
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4 Reviews Added on September 6, 2015 Last Updated on September 7, 2015 Author
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