My People

My people

Could have come straight

From

A Faulkner novel

The generations that came

Before me

Were rugged

Denim wearing folks

Logging timber out

Of

Florida’s backwater swamps

Making moonshine

In the Appalachian Foothills

Sitting up all night

With the dead

Before laying them to rest

In the sandy soil of small-town

Southern cemeteries

Shaded with cedars

And

Longleaf pines!

My people were  

Truck drivers

Farmers

Factory workers

War heroes

Parolees

And

Preachers

They doctored themselves

Because

They couldn’t afford

Going

To a doctor

Or the medicine prescribed

Afterwards!

They clotted

Bleeding wounds

With spider webs

Drew poison out

With tobacco

Relieved toothaches

With honey

And

Chest colds

With camphor tree leaves!   

Yes

My people could’ve come

From a Faulkner Novel

Or

Maybe something

Flannery dreamed up! 

From my book, When The Cedars Shade Your Grave