There is Leftover Mutton in the Fridge
I am a cold lamb in need of whiskey – in dire need.
Bohon, I never knew you.
Maybe I’ll meet you
Over on that golden shore.
There is a church in Daviess County (and one in Frankfort, too)
Where we sacrificed our Sunday mornings to stand stock-still singing Psalms.
I guess God listened.
5 thoughts on "There is Leftover Mutton in the Fridge"
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Your shift from “cold lamb” to “singing Psalms” is abrupt yet smooth. I love the wistfulness of the lines “Maybe I’ll meet you/Over on that golden shore.”
Thank you!
I’ve enjoyed your pieces thus far.
The thoughtfulness and the wrestling with Biblical imagery.
And I think maybe I know you IRL.
Thanks! Getting to the point where I can start to thank God I’m an agnostic haha. You very well might, I’m from Frankfort also
I love the last two lines especially!