-after George Ella Lyons
I am from tenant farmers,
from mules and corn-filled wagons.
I am from swamp and river-
muddy, rushing, speaking life.
I am from cotton bloom and boll,
representing work and survival,
from burlap sack and scale,
the gin that mined the seeds.
I am from lard and side meat,
from feed-sack dresses and Singer machines.
I am from storytellers and a porch culture,
from “Y’all come” and “What ails you?”
I am from peanut-boilings and cane-grindings,
from hog-killings and sweet tea.
I am’from dreams and prophecies and Holy Ghost fire.
I’m from foot tub and outhouse,
from Sears and Roebuck catalogues and homemade lye soap.
I’m from turpentine cups and bleeding pine trees,
from Daddy’s back plasters and Mama’s rough hands.
I’m from fruzzy television and static radio,
from memories, sun-washed and weathered
like a rusty Cadillac de Ville.
Originally published in Fire 2021
Photo: Trisha Downing/Unsplash