odd granddaughter

The poem was a gift from my Papa.

Big Blue Dot Y'all

odd granddaughter

sad by the standard of a cloud
been ’round so long
that i forget where my
who my

why my

what my

how my people are.
skin cracked from bales of fibrous cotton
laughter like spit from the mouth of God
eyes keen from too much mill town
odd granddaughter begs
for back scratches &
carolina figs

odd granddaughter prepares
the old ones for documentary film

odd granddaughter done run off,
always running off…
“wait.
c’mere
you still blood girl.
how you s’pect a thang to grow
if you keep yankin’ it up?”

it’s my papa’s voice that unveils this truth
it’s red clay and boiled peanuts and hoop cheese
that line the roads home.

My grandparents James and Louise Ellenburg — photo taken in 2010. They have been married over sixty years. And yes, they think I’m a bit odd.

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