Notes About The Poem
Poem 12 from Voices From Mt. Olive Cemetery, a work in progress.
Dewey Hicks 1900-1918
Dewey Hicks
1900-1918
It burns, burns still.
This sweating insidious fever.
This slippery revolting slide
Down down down into the hole here!
I’m on fire mom! More ice!
Strawberries, sweet strawberries!
Please, please something sweet, something
Something cold, some ice
Yes, ice for my parched tongue!
I can still taste!
I can still hear!
But, but I can’t see.
Dear God, where are you?
Dear mother, I need you now!
Please, please, some ice for my lips, my flaming tongue!
It burns! Burns!
Sunset screaming, screaming!
My voice yelling hurling invectives!
My glove, my hat, my ring,
And over there by the door
Her sweet sweet photograph in a glass frame!
Strawberries! Sweet strawberries!
Please please my tongue is scorched!
Down down down into the hole here.
It burns, burns still.
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