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Poem: The Colonel by Carolyn Forché
Yesterday I was introduced to Carolyn Forche's narrative poem, The Colonel. Here's a few teaser lines...
Note: It gets squicky.
The moon swung bare on its black cord over
the house. On the television was a cop show. It was in English.
Broken bottles were embedded in the walls around the house to
scoop the kneecaps from a man's legs or cut his hands to lace.
Note: It gets squicky.
The moon swung bare on its black cord over
the house. On the television was a cop show. It was in English.
Broken bottles were embedded in the walls around the house to
scoop the kneecaps from a man's legs or cut his hands to lace.