By Mark Lager
From Fall 2017
Night I was born rain dripped down on me 25th of January Christ was crucified on an April afternoon three hours of darkness His mother Mary cried when they wrapped him in that gray shroud My mama’s name was Mary she died during a dust storm in the month of May That dust always blew in from west Texas like in Pharaoh days “Motherless children have a hard time When mother is dead No one will love you like mother will.” Listened to my pa groan and moan Mary, Mary, Mary Heard the trains pass rattle, rattle, rattle middle of the night Father married again a lady who slept around he beat her Tied the tin cup round my neck took me to the corner Sweat on my brow blinding my eyes I sing for my supper I sing to the flies buzzing round my head spinning circles I sing to the cicadas screeching through long, long, long hot summer days I sing to the crickets chirping as twilight fades and night cools my soaked clothes One Sunday morning sun black as sackcloth I stare straight up burn my eyes I’m black as sackcloth hiding inside Mama, I’m scared They held my hands at the river head went under And the earth was void Darkness on the face of the deep Spirit of God moved on the waters I feel Him in the soil in the stones beneath my feet Mother’s never gonna hold my hand she’s gone so I build a guitar I scrape this choke in my throat cross these strings But no one’s listening in Pendleton, Brenham, Hearne so I hitch to Houston Fourth Ward “The Reservation” Red Light District No red lights blazing for me “Lord, let your light from the lighthouse Shine on me.” Smoke stings my lungs crowd chattering clattering So I raise my voice I shout and shout until my throat is sore Until I rasp and when I can sing no more I slide, Lord, I slide Broken bottleneck some drunk shattered on the ground in front of me Brass ring some lover left behind Pocket knife because a blind man needs protection Then the war was on rations and rumbling belly registered for the draft President Wilson says “War to end all wars” but he still wars on us blacks “If I had my way I’d tear this building down.” I heard people cheer and clap Then I heard a white man’s voice shout me down clamp those cold cuffs on my wrists Twenty four hours in jail New Orleans There ain’t no place in this world, oh Lord, no place meant for me