p r i d e

Give me memories as

slow to leave as snails.

In foreign    and perhaps

fragile years    I’ll still be able

to recognize semen

and expect the smoke.

Champ’s name    causes no

stress to fill the mouth.

Quieter than fear    or any

of fear’s cousins. Vernice

takes nine specific pills

between spoons of grits

and long sips of an instant

coffee I love. Robert never

told us he was ill

though surely    he knew.

I’ve seen knowledge eat large

men alive    over a summer.

Muscadines on center

stage as the native grape.

The thick skin    the teeth

pierce    breaks to pour

sweetly across the tongue.

Look    how I hunger where

there is no hunger. Look

how pops left    before we

thought he was done. Listen

how the voice    of a dead man

can live. Pack me    a bag  

I can fit    in my heart.