5″ x 7″ on Somerset paper with Graphic Chemical Bone Black Ink.
The print was then hand colored with acrylic paint.
(I haven’t decided whether I like the black and white version
or the painted version better.)
for Jo-Ellen Truelove
You know my Joey, he’s a little man.
He wouldn’t even make a third of me.
Well he was jabbing at me, going on
about utilities, about the lights
and water and the phone.
“Marie,” he said,
“ya gotta shut your mouth. Your sister lives
in Maine. She isn’t living down the street.”
As if I didn’t know where Linda lives.
He stuck his bony finger in my face
and yelled about the bills. I hate it when
he pokes that bony finger in my face.
His face was red. “A bony lobster.” That’s
my name for him. He hates it when I call
him that. “Well Bony, why don’t you just pay
the bills and quit complaining. You’re at fault
as much as me.” I told him.
he was. His mouth was working up a fit
and that old bony finger jabbed away
a whisker from my nose. I said to him
I couldn’t hear a word he said. And then
I said, “I gotta make some water for
your bills.” and went to piss.
I hadn’t just
got seated, he had left the cover up
again, when there he was a jabbering
away. Well what do you expect a girl
to do? There wasn’t any way he’d give
me any peace. I couldn’t even piss
in peace. So sitting there, my dress all bunched
around my waist, I let him have it.
just bounced into the shower where he knocked
the curtain from the wall and landed there
surrounded by that plastic organdy
he’s always after me to throw away.