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My Girlfriend and I Come From a Small Town | Bellamy Rump

A sigh creates St. Helens’ ash

swallowing weeks old milk

and grandpa’s leather recliner

into the heart of a midwest

false-spring downpour.

 

Rotting corn clambers

in the twisted vines of

our alcoholic priest’s private

plot of water-logged soil.

Shutters dance maniacally,

 

and beer caps clang like chimes.

The rain tastes like melting metal.

It worms its way past chipped

merry-go-rounds and into

St. Daniel’s thick, amber blood.

 

Barefoot going 70 over speedbumps

in Babylon. Shorts in winter,

prayer-bruised knees. Bombing

down man-made mountains,

rabid sheppards at our goat tails.

 

The town smells like cow shit,

and we gladly smoke it into

our St. Philomena lungs. Weeds tickle

flushed red noses. Rosary beads

roll across termite-infested,

 

wrap-around porches. Lemonade

tastes like a dollar-fifty

and drive-through liquor stores.

A church parking lot at midnight.

Staring at cornfields and pointing at cows.

 

Bellamy Rump is a queer, neurodivergent author and poet that writes about whatever topic is most heavily on their mind at the moment. They attend the University of Nebraska Omaha where they are in the process of obtaining a Creative Writing degree with a concentration in fiction and poetry, as well as a minor in History. They are a part of the Honors Program and participate regularly in the university’s writing club.

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Absolutely amazing!

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