Pine Mountain Cemetary IV Tressie
Pine Mountain Cemetery IV
Tressie
Little mop head with tangled curls,
Sunshine carried on her head
With a giggle spread out for us.
See the rock marked with a T?
Heart shaped, a daisy chain with
Pink clover captures the tiny stone.
Her runaway horse spooked by hiss
And strike of the sunning rattlesnake.
Our screaming girl held hard until
Her foot seized by stirrup dragged
Her down the rock strewn cliff.
No chance to save girl or horse.
Myth she became, the child lost
To a fate too cruel to bear. Her
Mother rests in the nearest space.
Her sisters spin tales of her beauty
Too rare to keep, sweetness too rich
For such mortals as those four be.
5 thoughts on "Pine Mountain Cemetary IV Tressie"
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Oh my, another heartbreaking tale. Your descriptions and imagery just get to me!! Wonderful poem!
The meter, as in “Myth she became, the child lost / To a fate too cruel to bear” seems perfect for the story. I free associate easily so it’s a stretch, but the rhythm reminds me of Colerdidge’s “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.”
If I get the meter even close it is a good day. Voice is another that hangs out there waiting for me to hook it in. To hear even the faintest hint of “The Rime . . .” give me the impetus to keep going.
Very beautiful piece. My favorite thing is the tone the language creates. Part reverence, quiet awe and terror, I am really captivated by it and will return to it for more. Thank you.
Loving your series.