don’t know much about cholera
the collared hills are spilling mist.
the clouds rise like chimney spit.
creek’s up, and up here’s where
my ancestors died of cholera.
Mom says it can kill you quick,
and we laugh because it looks like
our late line lost their lives
over something stupid—
dirty hands and dirty drink,
how’s that for humble beginnings?
3 thoughts on "don’t know much about cholera"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Love this poem because of your use of “collared” and “chimney spit.” I love the language play, alliteration and the shy double entendre. It’s small and the shape is floaty.
Your combinations are so surprising and fun to read. I enjoy your work.
The title caught my eye, and I’m glad I read this poem. Nice.