< Issue 2 >
Midnight Hovers Over Georgia; or Georgia Air
by Kelly Rae
Midnight hovers over Georgia like slave masters over dark shoulders
Silence sleeps, but black hands and feet can not
Fireflies and croaking frogs mock us
Mimicking our misery with their groans
Laughs carry off in the distance and echo likes whips ricocheting in the
wind
Feet bleed like sweet juice gushing from that Georgia peach
The aroma of sweat and wildflowers hang in the air
Bittersweet taste
Hands burn like brass knuckles beating backs
Bruises
Branches whipping legs
Legs shaking
Making nerves jump
Making backs buckle
Backs ache like thumbs after picking cotton
Backs ache like bodies bent over for sixteen, seventeen, eighteen hours
Boots rests in his side
Sandwiched between his ribs and lungs
Sun rests on his back like the weight of all his African ancestors
Eyes water cooling his face like Nile waters
Cool as Georgia sweet tea
She serves tea
She serves biscuits and gravy and mash potatoes
And all with a smile
She smiles
With apron on and dish rag
She’s proud to be in the house
She cleans plates, cleans shoes, and makes beds
She washes windows, sweeps floors, dusts counters, picks up anything and
everything left over
She beats rugs
Like smacks across her face when she let the soup boil for too long
She sets tables and wraps silverware like hands wrapped around her neck
When she told master, "No"
She wishes
Like children betting on shooting stars and birthday candles
Wishes she was in the field with her heart so she could see stars
Instead she’s stuck
Where the record player squeaks and Billie Holiday drowns out the
sound of screams
At least in the field she could get her hand on something to fight back
with
She washes and twists water out of clothes like master twists her arm
She breathes heavy like big bay windows breathe to let in Georgia air
Sweet air taste like lilac and honeysuckle
Bittersweet
He looks up
At the Midnight sky hovering over
Like white faces hovering over black bodies
He feels a breeze brush past his cheek and he can smell her scent
He grits his teeth and takes a moment to let that smell consume his
nostrils until she is with him
Midnight Hovers Over Georgia; or Georgia Air
by Kelly Rae
Midnight hovers over Georgia like slave masters over dark shoulders
Silence sleeps, but black hands and feet can not
Fireflies and croaking frogs mock us
Mimicking our misery with their groans
Laughs carry off in the distance and echo likes whips ricocheting in the
wind
Feet bleed like sweet juice gushing from that Georgia peach
The aroma of sweat and wildflowers hang in the air
Bittersweet taste
Hands burn like brass knuckles beating backs
Bruises
Branches whipping legs
Legs shaking
Making nerves jump
Making backs buckle
Backs ache like thumbs after picking cotton
Backs ache like bodies bent over for sixteen, seventeen, eighteen hours
Boots rests in his side
Sandwiched between his ribs and lungs
Sun rests on his back like the weight of all his African ancestors
Eyes water cooling his face like Nile waters
Cool as Georgia sweet tea
She serves tea
She serves biscuits and gravy and mash potatoes
And all with a smile
She smiles
With apron on and dish rag
She’s proud to be in the house
She cleans plates, cleans shoes, and makes beds
She washes windows, sweeps floors, dusts counters, picks up anything and
everything left over
She beats rugs
Like smacks across her face when she let the soup boil for too long
She sets tables and wraps silverware like hands wrapped around her neck
When she told master, "No"
She wishes
Like children betting on shooting stars and birthday candles
Wishes she was in the field with her heart so she could see stars
Instead she’s stuck
Where the record player squeaks and Billie Holiday drowns out the
sound of screams
At least in the field she could get her hand on something to fight back
with
She washes and twists water out of clothes like master twists her arm
She breathes heavy like big bay windows breathe to let in Georgia air
Sweet air taste like lilac and honeysuckle
Bittersweet
He looks up
At the Midnight sky hovering over
Like white faces hovering over black bodies
He feels a breeze brush past his cheek and he can smell her scent
He grits his teeth and takes a moment to let that smell consume his
nostrils until she is with him
HTML Comment Box is loading comments...