the trials of Cumie Barrow

born in Nacogdoches, small girl of the hardshell kind
I was tough, raised right by the cane &
did not paint my face

I joined right up with Henry & his dream to own a farm,
the right & Christian way to live

we worked in bone-dry fields that gave us back so little
but knew we would endure

I birthed seven children one by one &
each survived the plagues of youth & fortune
till the bad days came

it was earnest work at first, 
planting on those rented acres
& then it turned plain rough I have to say 
hiring out to other farms to eat

worked indoors just as hard
shacks & tents & underneath a wagon
my children by my side

just held my head up straight
& kept my hands in use
I'll be no devil's playground

here's what I'd do each day:
work the fields, mind babies,
fix the dinner, wash the endless filthy clothes, 
haul water, nurse the sick

I did what must be done
kept my grim mouth shut
there was no time for dreaming in those days

Henry'd say you make that child mind, 
& yes I did: I made them children dance
when rod came out to play

a deep & scrabbling need's what 
made me burn from dawn to dusk
so when they sent my boy Buck down 
for years
I knew it was not right

hitched up the wagon & picked our way out there
the youngest still so small
she could not pull her weight
three weeks it took us without money

I knew that judge would lean in my direction
my Buck freed before his time
I would have done most anything for him
for all of them, I would not bend

I wrote & begged the judge for Clyde's
swift freedom from the farm
he chopped his toes before he got the word
forever limped & wounded, true mark of the law

I did not care for wayward women
boys with moonshine in their hands
they drew near all my children
& one by one they fell away to sin
I cannot fault their hopes
we were the lowest of the low

nights I'd put my knees down on the hard swept floor
could only pray for some release
exhaustion was our one companion

I could just try to serve them well
to wash their broken bodies
& then lay them in the ground
from dust to dust
you will not see me weep

 
Pain

two triolets

1.  Bonnie

burned clear through to bone
she only called out for her mother 
did then all it was I could 
burned clear through to bone
we cut her from the leaking car
saw the singeing glow of providence
burned clear through to bone
she only called out for her mother


2.  Blanche

I wasn't afraid anymore
I saw Buck fall and ran to him
could see inside his brain
I wasn't afraid anymore
the glass tore into both my eyes
there was no sound but gunfire
I wasn't afraid anymore
I saw Buck fall and ran to him


when we drive this way

when we drive this way I like to watch the blur of trees in the dusty 
day, the way they turn to blue at a certain hour and I brush my hand 
across the cotton skirt to feel the hips rise up against my fingertips, 
we drive so long and fast I forget I wear my bones some days

when we stop in the cool of the shade bumping through the low brush and 
into a hidden spot Clyde takes out the blanket and spreads it atop the 
dry grass, wild carrot lazy in the air on either side and the sun low 
romance, makes me pull my hair down smooth across my cheeks, plump up 
my beret

he opens the door to me, the brown of his eyes so dark, his small hand 
slips behind my back and one beneath my knees so slow the pain still 
there and then I'm up and tuck my head below the door and out into the 
hot still air hoping for some breeze

we lie upon the blanket, eat the beans and maybe find some little scraps 
of meat, share it out with care there is so little now and I know I am 
not the pretty thing I used to be, how long will he still love me when 
I look like this

he says I am a liar and always sweet but he is that way, only, I do love 
him so, when will we die and will it be together right away or will there 
be some long slow time of grief, a vast and haunting dream