TBT
Something just didn't seem right about what I was seeing. I could not place my finger upon it. But mammy was seeming to be enjoying eating the greens beyond the ordinary. With the mayonaisse spread liberally with pot liquor swelling the cornbread, I had seen that closed eye look before. Be it in the Saturday evening R movies or the Sunday morning glory shouting, it was a look incongruent upon mammy, whom I held above such ecstacy in her stoic, reserved prudence. But there it was, with every slow bite the closed eyes, as if she were again lying by that Itchy Spring in the time her blush was roughed. Her flames over a lifetime doused with the hair in a bun, dressed completely to exile sinful flesh, all fallen so suddenly in the sopping of the collard greens.
No comments:
Post a Comment