The Last Barbecue of the Summer (or just another picnic)
Grandpa’s set up the wireless speakers.
The Rolling Stones and Cream, the beat
sends flatware into vibrating fits.
It’s the family picnic.
Last of the summer.
Two brother, rely on sticks for
balance – they compare arrhythmia,
and wonder why jelly beans are
always shaped like kidneys.
Yes, one agrees, his kidneys squeak
like an old man’s crouch. The other
swats away a mosquito that leaves
an unsatisfied itch on his neck.
Photographs taken for the album.
Some old, and dimmed,
yellow as blossoms.
Grandpa picks a corner.
Naps in peace.
His eyebrows are wide as hills.
These poems/prose are draft versions, written in participation of Miz Quickly’s prompts and Writers’ Digest (Poetic Asides) November poem-a-day challenge. The aim: to produce a chapbook for submission. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
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