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John Jenkinson
Snake Balls
Other Poems by John Jenkinson
Rehersal | Showdown

Sister's weazened snake balls thirst
in a cottonmouth sack. She's not the first
of our family's haunted women to boast
a deuce - our greatest-granny cursed
through hers, cremated the cracker Hosts
our uptown Lutherans nibble. Black toast
smoked on the chancel table. Wry bread!
Her scrobis wreathed with dry ghosts.

But Sister weaves drab crowns, no head
undone: bramble and widowbane, inbred
river-trash, hollyhock and dock.
She fashions bonecups where the sacred

Burgundy glints its antique shock
of recognition - spirit talk.
She flares like sulfur, smolders like one
the snake balls woo. I'd rather mock

mouths in a glass or cheat the sun
than heed the snake balls' sour summons.
They call her to slither a sere course
through scourge-grass with One-Leg-Woman.

John Jenkinson earned his MFA at Wichita State University and his PhD at the University of North Texas. Author of two chapbooks (with a third forthcoming), John recently served as Milton Center Fellow in Poetry at Newman University.
John is a past winner of an AWP Intro Award. His poems have appeared in a variety of journals, including American Literary Review, The Georgia Review, Grasslands Review, Green Mountains Review, and Quarterly West.

John currently teaches literature and creative writing at Butler County Community College.

All contents copyright The New Journal, 2001.

Poems \| Home
John Jenkinson Snake Balls	Other Poems by John Jenkinson Rehersal \| Showdown
Sister's weazened snake balls thirst in a cottonmouth sack. She's not the first of our family's haunted women to boast a deuce - our greatest-granny cursed through hers, cremated the cracker Hosts our uptown Lutherans nibble. Black toast smoked on the chancel table. Wry bread! Her scrobis wreathed with dry ghosts. But Sister weaves drab crowns, no head undone: bramble and widowbane, inbred river-trash, hollyhock and dock. She fashions bonecups where the sacred Burgundy glints its antique shock of recognition - spirit talk. She flares like sulfur, smolders like one the snake balls woo. I'd rather mock mouths in a glass or cheat the sun than heed the snake balls' sour summons. They call her to slither a sere course through scourge-grass with One-Leg-Woman.
John Jenkinson earned his MFA at Wichita State University and his PhD at the University of North Texas. Author of two chapbooks (with a third forthcoming), John recently served as Milton Center Fellow in Poetry at Newman University. John is a past winner of an AWP Intro Award. His poems have appeared in a variety of journals, including American Literary Review, The Georgia Review, Grasslands Review, Green Mountains Review, and Quarterly West. John currently teaches literature and creative writing at Butler County Community College.
All contents copyright The New Journal, 2001.