Poetry By Michele Sharpe

anders pearson CC



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A Tour of They Tried

This is the camp where my cousin died,
His spine resting back on an uneven tree. 

This is the lot with the single-wide
Where his mom and his dad wanted always to be.

And this is the room where his mother’s pride 
In the pills she’d acquired filled his belly and mind, 

Here is the camp where my brothers’ brains fried.
Here is the shade where they’d pass out and lie

By the campfire stacked high with family debris,
The same as the camp where our cousin died,

Legs crossed and aligned in reflective OD,
Like a statue erected from national lies

Blaming him, my family, others like me
For the bottomline storyline tree.

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Michele Sharpe, a poet and essayist, is also a high school dropout, hepatitis C survivor, adopted person, and former trial attorney. She's written essays for publications including Witness, Yes! Magazine, The New York Times, and Poets & Writers. Her poems can be found in Sweet, Poet Lore, Rogue Agent, Salamander, and elsewhere.  She’s working on her second memoir. More at http://michelesharpe.com.
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