Scenes From A Documentary
History of Mississippi
2. Glyph, Aberdeen 1913
The child’s head droops as if in sleep.
Stripped to the waist, in profile, he’s balanced
on the man’s lap. The man, gaunt in his overalls,
cradles the child’s thin arm—the sharp elbow, white
signature of skin and bone—pulls it forward
to show the deformity—the humped back, curve
of spine—punctuating the routine hardships
of their lives: how the child must follow him
into the fields, haunting the long hours
slumped beside a sack, his body asking
how much cotton? or in the kitchen, leaning
into the icebox, how much food? or
kneeling beside him at the church house,
why, Lord, why? They pose as if to say
Look, this is the outline of suffering:
the child shouldering it—a mound
like dirt heaped on a grave.
------------------------------
Lesson, Banjo 19—
The child cradles the forced banjo like a father
with an unfamiliar, but kin, son. Nothing like a well
worn grandfather would. The two of them, grandfather man
and grandson boy, deep water color on canvas, displays
the vagueness of memory. Grandfather man’s brown arm bleeds
on the banjo that grandson boy doesn’t really want to play,
but they are one, thanks to blending. The boy’s face
says how much longer?, when will we be able
to harmonize, though barely trying to move fingers
made raw hours ago. He prefers fingers hardened through play,
not practice. But if he sits on this lap for thirty minutes a day, he could
be the next __________________, rewrite the Star Spangled Banner,
or give a white man the means to start a revolutionary new genre.
History of Mississippi
2. Glyph, Aberdeen 1913
The child’s head droops as if in sleep.
Stripped to the waist, in profile, he’s balanced
on the man’s lap. The man, gaunt in his overalls,
cradles the child’s thin arm—the sharp elbow, white
signature of skin and bone—pulls it forward
to show the deformity—the humped back, curve
of spine—punctuating the routine hardships
of their lives: how the child must follow him
into the fields, haunting the long hours
slumped beside a sack, his body asking
how much cotton? or in the kitchen, leaning
into the icebox, how much food? or
kneeling beside him at the church house,
why, Lord, why? They pose as if to say
Look, this is the outline of suffering:
the child shouldering it—a mound
like dirt heaped on a grave.
------------------------------
Lesson, Banjo 19—
The child cradles the forced banjo like a father
with an unfamiliar, but kin, son. Nothing like a well
worn grandfather would. The two of them, grandfather man
and grandson boy, deep water color on canvas, displays
the vagueness of memory. Grandfather man’s brown arm bleeds
on the banjo that grandson boy doesn’t really want to play,
but they are one, thanks to blending. The boy’s face
says how much longer?, when will we be able
to harmonize, though barely trying to move fingers
made raw hours ago. He prefers fingers hardened through play,
not practice. But if he sits on this lap for thirty minutes a day, he could
be the next __________________, rewrite the Star Spangled Banner,
or give a white man the means to start a revolutionary new genre.
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