deepundergroundpoetry.com

HERITAGE

windows boarded
and roofs caved in
 
this  town
choked on itself decades ago,
resistance a thorn in its musty craw,
that southern sheen of kindness
hiding a cancer hot and roiling under its pale skin,
its history dark, bloody, and proud
and goddamn if i couldn't feel its sickness
rising through the concrete
and smell it at every turn,
us proud southern boys
still waving our stupid flags
our poor ol' fathers' fathers
shackled by the same strange hubris
willing to die for a planter's cause
thus as much a slave as any
only white,
relishing their privilege
but standing just a hair's breadth
from the whipping post,
a heritage
better forgotten
Author's Note
I grew up down here, but have never been much on so-called "southern heritage." I think the confederate battle flag is an embarrassment.
It flies all around me.
This town did die. My wife and I imagined it was cursed by its history.
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