Issue 226, Fall 2018
On her way to the Louisiana State Penitentiary, Sister Mary Aloysius
Drove past many signs: Earthworms Here. Have Many Rabbit. Calicos
In Burlap Sacks for Free. There were wooden crosses, some upsided
From a weird wind of such flaccid heat
Through miles of nothing much—until a shrewd
Of cottonmouths braided in a knot so vast
Across the asphalt She had to stop the car.
She waited as they wound and ragged and sieged their way across
The two-lane road, and then she traveled on.
Rafters of Slack Turkies. Nurse-Cow’s Pail. Push hoes, malt forks, unrusted
Mangleknifes. Here is the sheriff in his hammock on his clutter-land
Not quite yet woken from his dream of herding
All the Negroes out to anywhere
Sister Mary Aloysius carried in her pocketbook
A blue transistor radio (with hymns, which lived inside) to the man