that boy from georgia is coming through here

they changed curtains

waxed floors

aired out the front company room

sent for camphor to lay throughout the house

they cooked all night

boiled bath water all day

cornbread, okra, turnip salad, stewed chicken,

fried chicken, dressing,

killed the prized hen

gravy, corn, potatoes, rice, sweet potato custard,

lemon pie, rice pudding, coconut cake,

chocolate cake, lemonade, and your chittlins,

martin,

all for you martin,

word was given sunday

that you was coming

to their corner

so they swept dirt yards

put the chickens up

hung out the special quilt

laid out the catalog sheets

put fresh oil in all the lamps

cause you never could tell

just how long you’d want to stay

a war on evil takes a lot of planning

takes a lot to get troops

stirred up.

so stewed corn with fatback, fried chicken

sliced tomatoes and cucumbers in vinegar

were passed around several times

soldiers need meat on their bones

martin

walking through dustbowls

hailstorms

riding on the blade

of a lightning rod

those old sisters

opened

their front rooms for you

opened preserves and jams

that had been put away

for something special

you were a something special

tall, brown, sweet with dreams

like their own sons

when they were about your age

before they drowned

in the dust

that you so gallantly

stepped lightly through

these were your first infantry, martin

GRANDMOTHERS

whose words and dreams

shot straight bullets

these were your first line

GRANDMOTHERS

always ready to rinse out

a soul or two

these were the first line who put the armor

of sassafras, high john the conqueror, and

blood root

inside your shoes

made mountains continue to grow

in your daytime dreams.

yes, martin, songs

sung in kitchens

on front porches

in turnip patches

at hog-killings

carried the same verses

carried the same weapons

carried the same vision

in your name they gathered

washing, sharpening knives

polishing bullets

painting numbers

on their children’s heads