Fall 2012
Kentucky’s Bitter Mistress
I suffer assuredly with the saints and sinners and bandits From the love of sweet and smooth Kentucky bourbon She’s a mistress hidden in the dark homes of my brothers With a kiss that’s as lovely as it is sinister and bitter I hear the scars of dark stained hearts mourning in sounds of bluegrass And it’s just as haunting as the crunching of broken bones. But these severed ruts and wounds don’t heal like bones She’s a thief stealing everything I’ve got like a bandit I self medicate ritualistically with bottles and bluegrass And I’ve got her name tattooed on my chest, scripted Bourbon This house is too damn hot and I’ve turned too damn bitter She’s kept me alive this far, but will surely kill me just like my brother. And I’ll never forget the night she took my younger brother I can’t sleep anymore thinking of his mangled body and bones When he slammed the door of his car his breath was bitter And now all I’ve got is his old dumbass hound dog, Bandit I leave him leftovers by the back door with a bowl full of bourbon He cries when he howls and I pretend it don’t haunt me like bluegrass. But I can’t blame him cause I cry too listening to bluegrass The only thing my mistress spared was the memory of my brother I think that’s when I slipped into the woozy kisses of bourbon She’s ravaged and branded my soul after claiming my body and bones I beg and plead for her to steal that too – take it away you goddamn bandit But she won’t because she knows it’s keeping me paralyzed and bitter. Sometimes I’m afraid I won’t survive being this angry and bitter I spend most nights on my porch strumming bluegrass For me, comfort comes in the night as if I was a bandit And sometimes I could swear that, singing along, is my brother But I know that it’s really just the rattling of my bones Against this now empty glass bottle of my baby, Bourbon. And it looks like I’m alone again tonight, save my trusty lady Bourbon She’s in a hell of a mood and the loneliness has made her bitter I’d give anything to have a real someone, to feel bones on my bones Or to hear a sound other than howling or my sorry attempt at bluegrass But I’m only loved by the same woman who loved and took my brother Tonight’s the night, and she’ll finally steal me away like a bandit. Serve bourbon at my funeral, and I’ll ask that you play bluegrass Rest my swollen, bitter body next to my baby brother And leave my bones for the bandits.
Katie Blevins poetry
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