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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Bands of sunlight Streamed through the curtains Woke up to a glorious spring day In Lowndes County Georgia 1918 Little Sara and Clint jumped in our bed For morning hugs around A day to remember Filled with love, legacy Our people Slipped on my Sunday shirt All crisp 'n fresh, scent of spring Still warm from Sidney's hot iron I went to our closet shelf My prized straw hat perched there Closed my eyes, ran my fingertips Over the rim's stepped ridges Light yellow straw, black satin band My precious lid Reverend Shackelford greeted us In the vestibule where we talked About the day's big event afterwards Following his inspiring Christian sermon In procession, we assembled in the square To watch They brought her out The crowd gasped She wore a tattered house dress Bound tight and gagged She couldn't spout her venom Devil that she was We already got her husband And now we're takin' her No matter the child she carries All the better They hoisted her on the platform Tied her feet, stripped her The crowd exploded with applause Cheers, jeers, giant growls Then strung her upside down Sidney looked at me With that knowing smile The kids hadn't never seen Anyone naked before Let alone a negro lashed in place In front a y'all Doused her with gas 'n oil Some splashed onlookers As they backed away I looked at Sidney again She knew what I was thinkin' That smart aleck New York Easterner The feed merchant, came to our farm Spewing his rant 'bout how we Oughta treat negroes as equals We argued, almost fought Sidney knew I wanted ta show 'em Show the world in the name of Christ That we are right I was proud to show the kids As they lit her squirmin' body She screamed her muffled evil screams Like the animal that she was Till she fell silent, burnt Deformed into a curled Grotesque Tommy Lee jumped on stage with His Bowie knife and sliced, gutting her And her boiled baby tumbled out With a "little cry", limp Others leaped up and stomped it dead Then sprayed bullets into her Gun smoke and smell of charred flesh Floating over everyone Some put up handkerchiefs Many turned away A canopy of straw hats Covered our town's square On the wooden gallows stage A contorted blackened form alone Hangin' centered there We turned slowly, kids clinging Crowds quieting, half-hanging heap Still smokin' Reverend Shackelford shook his head In approval as he passed by Silently we rode home, Sara wept a bit Children can't understand 'Cept ta know It was epic We explained that she was a devil Her husband and unborn too We needed to do it for their protection That night, we tucked them in With prayers and kisses We were proud of What we done
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