Sugar Cane

After leaving the nuns at the orphanage, I spent several months on a Brazilian sugarcane plantation. The owner took me as a lover, and every evening we toured his vast demesne. A freight train arrived nightly, pulling miles of empty gondolas; and in the morning they left full of the resinous stalks. The overseer feared that I would have a child and so he had me poisoned. The owner took me to a Catholic hospital and a different order of nuns nursed me back to health. Upon my return, my lover had both the overseer and my maid caned as I watched. That night I climbed onto the train, hid beneath the sugarcane and slept as best I could.

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This is my tall, naked house on the prairie.

This used to be my home.

Fires burned on the hillsides at night, though no persons could be seen

One day they’ll come and find me.

This entry was posted in artists, breakups, escape, fiction, hitchhiking, killing, relationships, sex, sneaking into places, travel, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Sugar Cane

  1. Pingback: This used to be my home « Tailey Po'

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