R. E. Hengsterman
The brown paper bag / wrinkled / smelled of sweets and cigarettes
Seventy-five cents, he says / flashing Swedish fish, and bubble gum
I have no money / maybe tomorrow; he says / yes, tomorrow
He returns / I have fifty cents; I say / hmm…, not enough
Take this, he says / dumping half into my hands / the remainder back into the bag
Tomorrow climb the hill / near the snake cave
After school, I climb / penny candy on my mind
Human flesh tastes warm / firm / hard
This bag’s free, he says / be back tomorrow / same place, you can have another
On the hill / between the bushes / same warm flesh / and another bag
The candy’s getting stale / the warm, hard flesh, old
I don’t want to climb the hill anymore
The Swedish fish are sour / the gumballs old / I gag
Not today, I say / but into the woods I go / alone
On the hill, I see / another / earning their penny candy
I taste the flesh / a memory
I have a large branch / I strike / penny candy spilling / crimson on the grass
Penny candy / penny candy, I say / meet me on the hill / near the snake cave
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R.E. Hengsterman is a writer and film photographer who deconstructs the human experience through photographic images and the written word. He is a 2016 Pushcart Prize nominee and a flawed human who writes under the beautiful Carolina sky. You can see more of his work at www. ReHengsterman.com and find him on Twitter at @rehengsterman.
