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Works of fiction and poetry by friends of Bamboo Ridge Press.



Grandma Ponczoha's Croup de Grace

Published by JIM HARSTAD | Friday, March 24, 2017 1:32 AM


100 words for March.


Two burning, barking, wheezing
days and nights
of Musterole and mustard plaster,

Time to get serious:

Five fat cloves of raw garlic,
dipped in coarse salt,
and chewed thoroughly.

My eyes flooding, nose gushing,
she'd spoon two big fingers
of fresh honey
into a clear glass tumbler
and add hot water.

"Now stir," she'd say,
handing me the teaspoon.

Two jiggers of Four Roses,
More hot water, to the brim.

"Stir," she'd repeat,
wiping my face
with a cool, damp cloth.

Savor the sweet, tawny blend,
slowly;
make it last.

Wake up hours later
in a pool of sweat.

Well.



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