Field Notes from Earth: Taste of the Very Rich
Jill Collins Nosse
Northeast Ohio Writer
Editorial Mentorship Letter
1.
I met a man with a university position,
head of an international fund or something.
The life of the party, had the best disposition.
There I was burning to be him, saying nothing.
Drunk on sloe royales and gin on the rocks.
His voice still strong, people heard and repeated the tone-
the way he laughed and sang little songs, gave little talks.
I wanted to be heard like that, I wanted a little of him for me to own.
2.
I don’t remember much
except the feelings inside him tasted like champagne,
bubbly and wonderful
but at dinner, the feel of the plate and the clink of the metal
was cold.
His dinner, laid out then on the finest china,
inside the meat
I saw blood.
I met a man with a university position,
head of an international fund or something.
The life of the party, had the best disposition.
There I was burning to be him, saying nothing.
Drunk on sloe royales and gin on the rocks.
His voice still strong, people heard and repeated the tone-
the way he laughed and sang little songs, gave little talks.
I wanted to be heard like that, I wanted a little of him for me to own.
2.
I don’t remember much
except the feelings inside him tasted like champagne,
bubbly and wonderful
but at dinner, the feel of the plate and the clink of the metal
was cold.
His dinner, laid out then on the finest china,
inside the meat
I saw blood.