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Susan Salisbury
Ode to Gomer

He had hair like the bright snow that glistened
under the fluorescent light,

and white feathery eyebrows and eyelashes
that encircled eyes of pink.

His translucent skin glowed like pale neon
that warmed up to a pink hum
every time he sat down that quart jar of moonshine.

And Lord, could he play that fiddle.
Working it up into some kind of sweet bluegrass fury.

Late into the night, when the Mason jar held only an inch of shine,
his skin burned red

and it made me wonder
if that fiddle might catch fire from his touch.

But it never did, it only stammered to a slow halt.
And then he left, walking zig zag into the night,

Fizzling out like some kind of
Hillbilly Supernova

that’s done come and gone.

Susan Salisbury is a wife, mother, and grandmother who lives in eastern Kentucky and never wants to leave the mountains. Through her work, she shares with her readers many childhood memories, often both touching and humorous. Susan is interested in all things Appalachian, utilizing her skills as an artist both to write and illustrate stories about the region.

 

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