Volcanic slobber rocks back and forth in mouths
Plasma twirls in hardened arteries with jelly for blood
But, they are doing God’s work without brains or breath
Lusty hymns ease out in perfect pitch
Holy words strengthen broad shoulder while churning
Stomachs spew the acid of a Cruel God’s conscience
A life of First Sunday sacraments and bible verses
Waxing candles of pleasure-seeking history
that shatters the truth in worn Psalms that cool
Scorched earth on Sunday.
Jesus! They sang to the God
that taught them to hate.
Jesus! Keep me near the cross
I write stories based on my childhood in Lebanon, Tennessee where I grew up in the African American community as the daughter of the town bootlegger. Growing up in a small southern town was not always easy, but growing up as the child of the bootlegger was even more difficult—and always interesting. What I hope to accomplish in my writing is to preserve this life in small-town Tennessee after the Second World War, especially the lives of the people that I loved in these small towns. This life and these people will be lost if not preserved in stories. I hope to preserve characters, their situations, and their voices in my stories because I do not want them to be lost. I am fairly new to the area of creative writing, but I have studied writing and worked with a mentor at Middle Tennessee State University in the MTSU WRITE program.