BY: JENNIFER SCHOMBURG KANKE
She had the will to rise
from the shaded holler
where spring peepers hid
in the tangles of honeysuckle
to desert to its dust the road
lined with tiger lilies
and the mix and match leaves
of the quick growing sassafras.
Look at her truck
packed up with the babies
and a used store-bought dresser,
a special place for her colors and scents.
Watch how she keeps her back
to the outhouse her own hands dug
and the shack bought and paid
with calloused hands and late nights.
This will now be a summer place
where the babies’ babies’ babies
will salt potato salad and pour red
Kool-Aid from large glass pitchers,
a place for them to say,
Weren’t we once so country,
before heading home to town
where real life traps you in aluminum
siding, concrete walkways,
Jennifer Schomburg Kanke, originally from Columbus, Ohio, lives in Tallahassee, Florida, where she edits confidential government documents. Her work has appeared in Prairie Schooner, Pleiades, and Sou’Wester. She serves as a reader for Emrys.
Image Credit: “Traces 2” by Ana Jovanovska