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Jeffery Renard Allen's Poetry
Hush Arbor
--for Mahalia Jackson
I.
He moves in red shocks
Shells and shucks,
a furious rhythm soon to be forgotten
Tight-fisted buds exact blood-demand from
white-willed hands
Generals give out
Soldiers drone
Declare witness in the
sawed-off voice of
short season
Strong sway cut
blade song and pine-knot glow
II.
Wanders the riverfront
a child thinking way out of the beyond
Splinters old barges with her
snake-headed ax
Nothing strange in that
kindling for the homefires
Sack mean-eyed coal from
Beasaw tracks
Sweet potato and ash
Life lived
lean, lard
Back'a town
Water and Audubon
funeral glory
New Orleans Second Line
and a preacher with seed-specked teeth
Got jus one thing to tell you:
cry coming/laugh going
Joy on the first floor
Sorrow on the second
So Swing Mr. Adam
Swing Miss Eve
Swing Mr. Adam before you leave
III.
Fire take the church
Heart commence to turn over
Great Lord! The whole thing been jump
IV.
Snatch hold a prophet's tail
hang and ride
high-ease, clean ties and planks
Panama Limited, City of New Orleans or some such
Remove yo hat and let your hair hang
like a willow tree
Chunk them countrified ways on
coat rack
Useless here
Draw up them wide muddy shoulders and
knock this city off
her feet
Move on up
Downhome
Take your place at the welcome table
dram and drink steaming up steaming up
big black iron pot
and all manner of meat
V.
Mr. Dorsey say,
"Blues don't own no notes
"You can embellish all you want
but don't kill the singer"
This Miss Jackson, she
old line caller
she
new line blues
Eagles running with the chickens
VI.
Crab-grass a-dyin, lookin mighty fine
Sun in the west, somephun glistenin on my vine
"Gon drive this big fat hog
by the name of Mr. C
Deliver deliver deliver
Me
If you see my saviour
Tell Him, Thanks a lot"
Said he would
Said he would
"What pay I got he need?
Tell you what,
sing him up real fine"
A cash-padded peacock
in a lavender leather nest
"Lil ole me
fish and bread singer"
VII.
Tree limb couldn't hold me
Ditch sho tried
Jumped the gun for freedom
Closer every stride
"I ain't comin to Montgomery
to make no money off them
walkin folks!"
VIII.
Her seven-branched chair
satin seat
burnished throne
antique
His seven-silked hat
pear-handled eyes
and rat's alley dice
Nerves bad tonight
She drops a question on his plate
which steams up locomotive-like
with the hamhocks
How to begin?
He smooths his smooth hair
(Her-Tru-Line removes curls and kinks)
Sips his iced tea
Holds his response in his throat
She clutches a chicken leg to chin teddy bear-like
Curls into sleep
IX.
Mr. Lazarus
stand at the door
knock
She's found
She's found
Unused words bleed
under the skin
This side of Judgment
the yearned light does not free you
February 13, 1999 – March 16, 1999