Bad Woman. Creative.

History. Pictures. Poetry.

"Home"

Skinning

Hanging in the afternoon sun,
giving off that fresh-kill smell.

Crisp autumn air whips through
the pine trees.

Knife in hand, we start to 
work. 

Slick, quick sounds of 
hide leaving muscle.

The grinding thrust of a
saw, gnawing, breaking
bone.

A tendon snaps.

Sharp slice of quartering.

The whole family comes
out to see that 10-point 
buck.

A little family reunion.

© Lorraine Gore, All rights reserved.

On A Forgotten Stairwell

You raised your
eyebrow at me,
and my stomach
flip-flopped.

When you touch
me my mind 
becomes clouded.

Hard to believe,
hard to breathe,
as your hands
push up my 
leather skirt.

Pushing down the 
fabric covering my
"perfect breasts."

Biting and pulling,
oh god,
you’re so rough.

Your fingers find
a home and I cry out.

Again and again
I’m built up on
the foundation
of your chiseled 
hands.

Tease me.

Now give me.

Push me over, 
back bowed,
eyes shut,
taunt and screaming
your name.

© Lorraine Gore, All rights reserved.

1959

Beans, 
cornbread,
and mayonnaise.
Times are hard,
but at least we 
have food.

Drenched in sweat, 
and dirt,
and motor oil.
Time are hard, 
but at least we
make a little money.

Dominoes on a 
Saturday night,
while the kids 
play loudly down
the hall.
Times are hard,
but at least we 
have this.

© Lorraine Gore, All rights reserved.

Voice

Gritty and rough,
hacking and vulgar.

“Woo Wee!” with a
smirk.

Yelling,
or laughing.

You say your name,
and I feel pride.

It’s our name.
We live through you.

We are all
carpenters,
and hunters,
and fishermen,
and gardeners.

Your life is
our life,
and your voice
is our voice.

© Lorraine Gore, All rights reserved.

On Your Birthday

It’s your birthday,
and I won’t see you.

I left a message on
your cell phone.

You won’t ever hear it.

Tonight I’ll light a candle,
and hope wherever you are you
know that you are loved.

I miss you.

© Lorraine Gore, All rights reserved.

Day In The Life #1