Raw Goods

landlord

she never spoke unless to order,
to proclaim,
to announce,
or denounce.

she lived in the single room
with an unlocked door
atop the winding staircase
of the rusty dusty fusty musty
house,

where cattle barons escaped
summer thunderstoms
in centuries past,

behind which army engineers
lopped off the top of a hill
to construct their water pump,

hills where conflagrations hid
escaped convicts from the
county jail across the river,

water that ran from mountain granite to orchard canals.

she slept atop a dead cat for two weeks

this was the first landlord that i remember,
and she called her employees
her 'men'
as if she was proud to have learned
not to call them 'boys.'

she spoke of them only to boast
of her close association with them.
it's to her that i owe this lisp.

posted by judy j @ 4:06 PM