Speech by Solveig Mardon

She digs her heel in the dirt, her boot sends swirls of thick red dust vacuuming up tiny corridors between sweaty torsos. The whole population of this cowless cowtown gathered at the feet of the politician to hear it all come together or just as damn likely fall apart, like the groaning metal of weekend rattle-trucks built by little brothers and ripped around the edges of town. Neck muscles all around her flex and crumple, everybody squinting at the stage. Handkerchiefs whip over shoulders, slap dust out of brows.

She feels him reach down, pinch his fingers around the loose skin of her kneecap, Goddamn, his arms are long. In the smack of the midday heat, rickety fan shaking its noisy head no, he had snuck around her body with that mouth of his, her elbows, knees, backs of her hands, taking skin between teeth and tugging like a gentle dog.

The wet-pitted city man onstage is waving his arms around and she can tell the top of his baldy skull is changing color, it’s frying. He finishes his speech. Dusty hands smack together around her, and what do you know, nothing’s changed. She still has sweat in her hair and the hands of an edge-town, hock-spit boy sliding up her leg.

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7 Comments

Filed under Solveig Mardon

7 responses to “Speech by Solveig Mardon

  1. Lotsa details here, imagery that fills the senses.

  2. len kuntz

    great stuff! wet-pitted city man…hock-spit boy sliding up her leg.
    yes.

  3. What a remarkable picture. I don’t even know what some of the words mean, but still the picture is so real! I am in awe. How did you do it?

  4. Kelly

    I can taste the dust – nice

  5. Pingback: Week #44 – Crowd | 52|250 A Year of Flash

  6. Lots of sensory details in this, made me feel like I was in it. Nice.

  7. Great writing! Reminds me of the work of San Francisco poet Aaron Shurin and other poets of his scene, closely related to the Beats.

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