Poem for Edward Baugh

Warner Woman: Version

(For Edward Baugh)

She came, they say, wearing a dress as red

as the dirt of the countryside, and stood

at the crossroads of Matilda’s Corner

shaking her fists at the mansions

on the hills. “The Spirit descended on me

to speak these words to the nation,

for they have wandered in paths

that I have not taught them.

For I have heard the cries of widows

and orphans in the streets, but the wicked

who fear neither flood nor famine,

and have built their fortresses, their walled

communities and garrisons have said,

‘Who is there like us to judge us?’

But thus sayeth the Lord of Hosts,

‘Kingston, O Kingston, how I would have loved

to have gathered you to my bosom

the way the sea caresses the shore.

But you have preferred storm and hurricane.

So I say, woe to you for you have slaughtered

my children, the old, and the crippled.

Woe to you for you have stoned and exiled

my prophets. Woe to you for your have defrauded

the homeless and the poor.” Then she ripped

her dress in two, spat on the asphalt three times,

and then, ran like a horse without its rider,

back up to Long Mountain, up into the darkness

gathering around the tops of the trees

with the smell of rain around their roots.

***