Arsenic Lobster poetry journal |
Issue Thirty Winter 2012 |
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Memsahib Memoir Julie Tepper Standig Inhaled the scent of camel dung as Bhutto dangled from Pindi’s prison. Soldiers praying—machine guns out of reach. Could have taken them out while walking the dog. Ceiling fans couldn’t cut this heat. The Indus was no longer moving. Sinful nights confined to screened porch, red and yellow chapatti- clothed walls, rattan room smothered by wicker. Sifted-for-maggot grain, vinegared wine, expired Major Grey’s chutney, awaited my arrival. Were they leftover like the local cat? American Embassy burnt down. One dead marine. My first trip after the baby? Ahmed’s egg farm behind a mustard field always in bloom. Dried burgundy blood caked on still warm shell. Bloody eggs looked beautiful. Tarbela towered over the crystal clean Indus and I crocheted baby sweaters for Bri. |
Julie Tepper Standig Previous Poem |
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