Gumdrops Line the Transmission Towers
by Sarah Barch
There was a man who sold us
candies on the way
home from school for a penny. We would run
home with Nutty Puttys
and Curly Wurlys and teeth
full of cherries. Back then we were stepping
on a version of the earth wrapped
in Cellophane. Even the Milking
Stool, the Johny-Ball, the Goat
Chain. I used to divide my entire house
into two
sections: Colors,
and colors that had gone
brown. Both
were scary
in their own way.
Colors, because of Why
Are There Just Colors,
and colors that had gone brown because of the Guts.
This was to account for the rooms full
of old trophies, wasp
killer, birthday
bags. the smoke
yellow staining the Oil
Fruit. Because everything
has been going
bad since the beginning.
If I were Eve
I would have just held
my mouth
around the apple. I would have just imagined
the juices. I would have just imagined
the sinking
teeth.