 A long time ago, Nonnie Augustine received a BFA from Juilliard in dance. After lots of dancing she was injured and went back to school to get an MS in special education at Florida State University. Then she taught emotionally disturbed children for fifteen years. She loved doing that, but her heart rebelled, and she had to stop. She has been writing poetry, fiction, and creative non-fiction since 2003, and is the poetry editor for The Linnet’s Wings. Her work has been published here and there. Nonnie makes money writing now and then, and is warmly attached to her blog.
Via mysterious paths and unforeseen circumstances, Nonnie lives with her brother in Panama City Beach, Florida.
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January 31, 2011 |
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Around the next corner is a dark green door
a dark green door with a diamond-paned window
a diamond-paned window with opaque yellow glass
the yellow glass glows from dim dusty lights
those lights cast long shadows on the tables and bar
on the mahogany bar trays of olives and onions
olives and onions and wedges of fruit
wedges of fruit and beyond them a mirror
an old barroom mirror and shelves filled with bottles
shelves filled with bottles colored like gemstones
colored like gemstones or clear as pure water
clear as pure water, but vodka and gin
vodka and gin, tequila and whiskey
tequila, whiskey, and rum in the glasses
raised by the drinkers through the bright afternoon
through the bright afternoon their eyes glaze like glass
the opaque yellow glass in the diamond-paned window
the diamond-paned window in that dark green door
that dark green door that has opened for them,
is open for them, but closed for me.
I've sworn it, sweet Jesus, closed for me.
© Nonnie Augustine
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