Tag Archives: New Orleans

Backscratcher

As a child, I, the Yankee from Jersey,

would visit Betty, my aunt and godmother

in New Orleans, for summers drenched

in mosquitoes and melted popsicles.

Unlike my mother, she let me run

barefoot . . .

–Excerpt from “Backscratcher” in Edges by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag, Chicago, 2016). First published in Penniless Press.

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Herstel’s

…Hear the bottle-tops’ metallic burp

seconds before fizz collides with tabasco

on an old man’s tongue. No neighborhood gossip,

only the game in black-and-white from a beery corner,

the bat’s crack outdone by shells splitting,

piled high as Grandma’s worries.

–Excerpt from “Herstel’s” in Jumping Off the Train by Donna Pucciani (Blue Forge Press , Washington 2007). First published in Freshwater.

Herstel’s

My grandfather was born on Frenchman

and hung his hopes on a barstool long before

despair sat on a curb behind the tavern.

The screen door was painted green and squeaked.

Crawfish on newsprint, boiled red with pop-eyes

burning black from cayenne, drew him there,

and cold Jax beer in brown bottles, with Satchmo

rupturing an old brown radio in the back room.

–excerpt from “Herstel’s” in Jumping Off the Train by Donna Pucciani (Orchard House Press, Washington 2007). First published in Freshwater.