Look Through

Original source material

Poetry

Antebellum

So we will have a child and finally give it this earth in its veins.

The craft and the small traumas that come of being young.

To think the world was more if we could only see.

The woods menacing and mountains full of monsters that die too soon.

Heady squeals that evaporate and we become…

That child will tramp and smell magnolias.

It will understand what grits are

And will open its mouth wide for ’I’.

Pledge allegiance,

Drink milk.

Be south born of north,

Pretend exotic.

Carry the whispers of the dead.

Will say ‘My Asheville.’

The child will not question where it is nor why the alphabet.

It will be a foreigner to me and you.

As is right.

What can it teach us of our adopted place?

What will it learn about home that I did not?

A golden souvenir in the sun of the antebellum that never was.

Image

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Information

This entry was posted on July 4, 2012 by in Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , .

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 32 other followers

Archives

Categories

Copyright: Elizabeth Watkin

All work on this blog belongs to the author Elizabeth Watkin and must not be reproduced without permission.

%d bloggers like this: