Argentine-American storyteller based in Appalachia


A poem about my first visit to Dollywood with my wife.


We swirled bright yellow
gripping hands inside a lemon tea cup.

The backdrop was white noise around you,
a blur of autumn colors,
and you were the centerpiece—
completely in focus.

I watched you laughing,
and I would’ve laughed, too,
if I wasn’t spinning so fast,
scrambling for the wheel,
sweat beads
like rivers rampaging down
daredevil waterfalls,
above my top lip.

We go so fast sometimes,
gliding like wild eagles in mountain skies,
exploding like thunder, heading
in a blazing fury toward new country, (fair
to say I’m glad we fly together).

I love these moments—
chasing fires in rewind with you,
playing back the memories
like dropping a line in your deep lake waters,
waiting for a bite.

If I were a barn, storm
your way inside me.
A Tennessee tornado,
twisting me up.
It’s no mystery—
I won’t resist.
I will always let you take me.

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Jamie Larson