by Derick Dawson
Tall and loose jointed and quick.
Duck naked through the green hedge of the river
bank and dip in the sandy gullies.
The creek-width, black water of the Alapaha is hidden
By a hedge of tupelos, myrtles, gallberries, and oaks.
Two men burst like a storm
With a cocky swagger
Puffing up like a toad in the flashlight
If your hand goes down, you're goners
Don't shoot them yet, until we find whey they are from
Guess they have nothing else to say
I have been known to give a man his last say.
I ain't even gone stoop to jawing with y'all
with what is right and wrong.
The men marched, peering back with glazed face.
I used to think if people could get to knowing one another,
Could each other's stories, they could come to some
Kind of understanding
The abyss of their screams rising up
Snicks the trigger and fires above his head