Monday, November 17, 2008


my father used to tell me a story / of arriving to school / small / six years old / skinny and new / off the bus / the biggest kid / followed him / around the yard / three days / that kid / followed my father.

on the third day / after school / my father / found three rocks / from the backyard / one for each day / and put them / in his pocket.

that kid / followed my father three days / on the fourth he pushed my father / and my father / quietly / pulled the biggest / rock from his pocket / fast / straight at that kid's teeth / blood / no one pushed my father / again.

i am a woman / with three rocks / and i would rather / warm your heart / but don't forget i am / first my father's / daughter.

--Suzy Devere


  1. ha... as I was reading I was thinking to myself "where is she going with this?".. and then I got to the end and smiled and ahhhh-ed...

  2. Mike, as i was reading your comment, i was thinking "shyte. where WAS i going with this?" too. and lolli, thanks. i think you've got some rocks on you, too.