Running Memory

By Shelby Stephenson

Where she stands in the history of race
Her apron tied loosely and her wide straw-hat
Aslant on her head, shadowed by self-doubt
And the spiritual, “Steal Away,” she excuses
For lack of justice past and future the shout
She could be buried near a KKK just for the sport
A graveyard-dig might end in speechlessness.

Let her be like the running, athletic Mercury,
God of sandals winged and heralded in service
To poetry, for God’s sake, and the thin
Wide hats in windows of shows where the wren
Peeks in for a flower to land on, his rock-pillar
Assemblage for his body next to a jimson in silence
Adorning the grave of July somebody might swear
Lies in the old-field cemetery, her spirit not saying too much.

Shelby Stephenson, Poet Laureate of North Carolina, 2015-18; his current book is Slavery and Freedom on Paul's Hill.