Afton Mountain
by Kitty Boots
Alice's son plays the dulcimer
strums sad refrains
scratches with a pick, winks at me
his cheap work boots tapping time
hasn't showered since laying asphalt in Crimora
hair in a pony tail, three day's worth of beard
as the warm beer hits
you take flight from the porch swing
wander in the galax
fog settles over the mountain, a ghostly blue shroud
amber warning lights, falling rocks
and I try not to stare at the jailhouse tattoos on his hands
as he plucks and pulls the strings
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Author's Note
I had published this last year. Alice had been my dad's secretary and a day on the mountain with them and their kin was full of food and music. Everyone played an instrument, fiddle, guitar, banjo, spoons. I had a huge crush on her son, Arliss, charmer, bad boy, ten years older than me, he fed my awkward girly-adolescent dreams. Arliss passed on several months ago, dulcimer in his lap, Bet, his favorite hunting dog at his feet.
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Vivid.
I remember this gripping, acutely rendered reminiscence. The sad news in your author's note adds another, deeper dimension to one of your most moving poems.
Well drawn, well written. I like the details, little words tucked here and there that add much more than just little words.
The "little words" as Foster Trecost said. Lovely.
Wonderful. *
Thank you, Gary, Matt, Foster, Erika and Beate.
The danger is palpable and understated. Nice!
I made my comment without reading your note. I almost never read notes before I read the work.
Thank you, Dianne. This piece was one I really liked, tweaked it a bit. Felt I had to put it out there again after I heard about Arliss.
A real moment. Great, Kitty.*
Very fine. Also, agree with Mathew the piece takes on a sad poignancy given your author's note.
Thank you, Ed. I hope to go back to Afton Mountain this winter, it's on the way to my brother's home in Tennessee. I plan to visit Alice's other kin, linger on the mountain and observe the amber lights!