Everlasting
“On the Beverly Hillbillies – what is Jed’s last name?”
“That’s easy. Clampett.”
“Ha! Ha! Clampett!”
With a twinkling eye Timmy Merritt reached down
put a vise grip on my nuts then ran off squealing.
I doubled over in that pose specific to a young boy
with his balls freshly clamped. In my head I said
“Sonofabitch Timmy Merritt rot in the lake of fire.”
Our family didn’t say such things out loud; we
thought them though which Jesus indicated is the
same but we cut ourselves some slack here and there. Penny Johnson walked up in the wake of that cruel: “You’ll always be braver than Timmy Merritt.” She placed her hand on my shoulder with the tenderest touch I’ve ever felt in my life. From then on when I would stand on Sundays among the faithful in my father’s church and we’d sing “what a fellowship, what a joy divine” I’d think of Penny’s handling of me that late spring day. She was joy divine. I’d of hung on a cross for her, a truth I never said out loud but thought.
same but we cut ourselves some slack here and there. Penny Johnson walked up in the wake of that cruel: “You’ll always be braver than Timmy Merritt.” She placed her hand on my shoulder with the tenderest touch I’ve ever felt in my life. From then on when I would stand on Sundays among the faithful in my father’s church and we’d sing “what a fellowship, what a joy divine” I’d think of Penny’s handling of me that late spring day. She was joy divine. I’d of hung on a cross for her, a truth I never said out loud but thought.
This is wonderful. I love your style as a poet. Really a beautiful poem and thought.
Yes, you were brave. And Penny, a dear. I still hope Timmy got his comeuppance with a righteous ass-kicking.
Oh, I think we’d be friends. ^^^
Great definition of poetry there: writing down what you wouldn’t say out loud but thought.
love this. tender grace.
What fun to get a peek into a little boy’s mind. Truthfully – rather like my little girl mind.