|
Kelley White Voluptuous The country was a warship. Her sails were hollow and trimmed with brass. The scent of burning oil whistled through her rigging, dried lips and eyes of the cold men at the bow, filled their mouths with iron and rust, the scent of scarlet stinging their ears. John Paul Jones drove a mule train across the Gulf of Mexico pulling the little rowboat of state. In the ‘hood we know the truth of fists and feet. “Walk the walk, talk the talk” and you end up alone and away from home. The mothers of justice carry large sticks. I raise my crutch to salute their passing army. This mother will learn to salute squat ships and the ramparts they sail. Doubloons do pave the pathway to night. The heavy ship burns. |