Shortnin’ Bread

by Mike Jewett

Like a stain.
Like stained glass in a church with a steeple
like see all the people.
Like Mamie Brown
her baby loves shortnin’ shortnin’.
Mamie’s little baby loves
shortnin’ bread.
The ease of putting out an APB for a missing owl
but going through hell to file
a missing person’s report.
The report of a semiautomatic.
The gospel of a G.
Like the gospel of a philosophizer.
Somebody prayed for me.
They had me on their mind.
Took the time and prayed for me,
I’m so glad they prayed,
I’m so glad they prayed,
I’m so glad they prayed for me.
Like nobody prayed for Mugabe.
Like sacred spaces, Atlantic Avenue elevated.
Like BP Deepwater the spill in the Gulf.
The way her breasts feel in your mouth.
Like don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Like plankton fertilization and falling cosmic dust
and falling cosmic karma and kismet.
Like black goldfish swimming inside a brownstone.
Like five dead brothers and daffodils and a Jesus avatar.
A blue and tan Rothko.
A Rothko on fire in an L.A. riot.
Like bombogenesis and its beastly storms.
Like this is the norm.
Like a chimerical bombination in twelve bursts.
Ithery, bithery, sipetty, sap.
Like mieces in a mieces trap.
Like finding a stalk of hay
in a needlestack.
Like hey.
Like Punta Gorda and Kunta Kinte.
Like crab legs in a crab shack jack
set down the settings don’t come back
like fried chicken and watermelon on a helluva day
like every single time you looked the other way.
Like General Gau left behind on your lips.
Like that sweet & sour kung pao shit.
Like Everyday People
like She Keeps Passin’ Me By
like Woah.
Like your got up and went needs to get up and go.


2 thoughts on “Shortnin’ Bread

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