| |
Secrets of Revenants and Taurusa School
Wrapped in the aromatic blossoms
of a modern-farmed orange
orchard, a four-room shack in Visalia,
California rises above the hard
pan and overgrown rose bushes.
The once palatial bell tower
of Taurusa School, peaks
over the sun painted,
fruit lavished branches.
It once christened
the ceiling-less, blue vault and
ochre-hued grass
cutting a swath
through a barren plain.
The winds whistle ghostly rounds of
"Brother John" through
cracks in the walls and
rattles brittle cackles of childhood
titters as it wafts
along the peeling tar paper
swirling the thick musk of decay.
Light filters through ripples of
dusted, liquid glass sagging in
splintered panes
to blaze across the pinewood floor and
spill between rotting slats.
Found in
postcards buried in
antique shops,
local revenants share tales of
sitting numb-legged in
straight-backed, wooden chairs
winking plans of escape
at the noontime ringing of the
school bell.
"We hike to the train tracks with
lunch sacks in hand.
Brother James bribes a soot
stained hobo
warming cold hands
over a fire pit.
He passes off his buttered bread sandwich
into clubbed, stumped, frostbit fingers for
the lecherous scoop of nearby towns.
Papa will only whisper such news
to mama upon his pillow
when the lamp flames fade to
a thin coil of smoke to
breeze on the night
air into our sleeping loft."
Copyright ©
Marsha Smith
|