Her hooded flannel faux fur lined,
her girlfriend’s dyke hair
black like naked tattooed mural girl.
The bar was called Cedar.
Hetero couple all tongue-kissing,
fondling finally, gone
before Lola Ray’s guitars were tuned.
Clea sipping hard cranberry lemonade,
the only non-beer the bartender had,
had to searched back freezers for one.
The dark reminding me
of catching mom behind Smithton bar, Dennis
wasn’t our dad, kissed him like he wasn’t.
We just wanted to go tick-tacking
with the kids on Neal Lane.
She got home early enough to make
hot cocoa for all the kids,
hiding from the cops in the kitchen of our
shit-brown panel trailer.
The nicest thing she’d ever done.
It might not have been Clea
at the long bar of Cedar,
her face wider than in But I’m a Cheerleader.
I order hard lemonade,
the band’s an hour late.
-- Amy Sutton
Amy Sutton received her MFA in poetry from Carlow University. Her manuscript is entitled Tabloids. She lives in Tarentum. Many writers featured in Chapter & Verse are guests of Prosody, produced by Jan Beatty and Ellen Wadey. Prosody airs every Tuesday at 7 p.m. on independent radio, WYEP 91.3 FM.