The Home Movie of Those Who Are Dead Now

Frank Stanford

Fourteen years ago a Negro
Rode into town on a one-eyed mule
He had a long coat on
It was midnight blue

A woman was telling another woman
With sign language
In the honky-tonk near the river

I went to sleep with a catfish
Under my bed
A dog licked my toes

The chauffeur combing his hair
With a red comb

The bride shading her eyes
Like a run-over hawk's wing
Imbedded in the macadam

And the host blowing out of the priest's fingers
At the Morning Worship
Celebrated out in the garden

Mule in the ditch
A man afoot

Boats cutting through pure dark

Nobody hearing the deaf and dumb children
Burning wasps under the bridge

My mother changing a tire
For Martin Luther King's father

White gloves for the pallbearers
Cold drinks for the rest.

Ginny Stanford