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Turn Me Loose

Page 2

by Frank X. Walker


  Jelly Bucket: “After Birth”

  The Louisville Review: “Heavy Wait,” “White Knights”

  95 Notes Literary Magazine: “Anatomy of Hate”

  Obsidian: “Husbandry”

  Reverie: “After Dinner in Money, Mississippi”

  Weave Magazine: “Swamp Thing,” “Harriet Tubman as Villain”

  A special thanks to the following for lending their eyes and hearts to early drafts of these poems and especially to those who gifted their brilliant questions, suggestions, and edits toward the final manuscript: Lewis White, Lee Newton, Ama Codjoe, Adam Banks, Debra Kinley, Tammy Ramsey, Jim Minick, CX Dillhunt, Drew Dillhunt, Taunya Phillips, and Michelle Hite. A special thanks to Randall Horton for his interest and support and to Minrose Gwin for including Turn Me Loose among the important literature celebrating and commemorating Evers’s legacy in her much-needed work, Remembering Medgar Evers: Writing the Long Civil Rights Movement.

  Introduction

  Much of Mississippi’s and the South’s past is characterized by increased resistance to white supremacy in the face of overt and subtle racism that resulted in a multitude of crimes. These include crimes against the body, crimes against property, the collusion of public and private institutions in preventing access and opportunity to all people, and conspiracies of silence that continue today. This collection of poems seeks to interrupt that silence and shine a light on the important legacy of a civil rights icon all too often omitted from summaries of the era, by giving voice to a particular chapter in this history from multiple and often divergent points of view.

  On June 12, 1963, in Jackson, Mississippi, Medgar Evers, the head of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) in Mississippi, was shot in the back by Byron De La Beck-with in his own driveway and died soon after being transported to a nearby hospital by neighbors. This was the first in a series of high profile assassinations that would cast a shadow on civil rights activities in America in the early 1960s.

  The primary speakers in this narrative are Byron De La Beck-with, Medgar Evers’s assassin; Beckwith’s wives, Mary Louise (Willie) and Thelma De La Beckwith; Medgar Evers’s brother, Charles; Evers’s widow, Myrlie Evers; and a sixth voice that works like a Greek chorus. Medgar Evers’s voice is silent beyond lifting his final words, “… turn me loose,” for the title, but his presence, like a ghost, speaks loudly throughout the poems.

  I believe acknowledging and working to fully understand history can create opportunities to better understand racism. I offer these imagined poems in hope that art can help complete the important work we continue to struggle with—the access to economic and social justice that Medgar Evers and so many others died for, and ultimately the healing and reconciliation still needed in America.

  PART I

  Dixie Suite

  WHAT KILLS ME

  Myrlie Evers

  When people talk about the movement

  as if it started in ’64, it erases every

  body who vanished on the way home

  from work or school and is still listed

  as missing. It erases the pile of recovered

  bodies—some burnt, shot, dismembered,

  some beaten just beyond recognition.

  It mutes every unsung voice in Mississippi

  that dared to speak up—fully understanding

  the consequences. When people talk

  about the movement as if it started in ’64,

  it erases his entire life’s work.

  It means he lived and died for nothing.

  And that’s worse than killing him again.

  AMBIGUITY OVER THE CONFEDERATE FLAG

  In the old south

  we would sit on the veranda

  life was full of work

  from sunup to sundown

  look out over the horizon at

  nothing but fields of cotton

  the young

  who happily played behind

  children

  tried to pick their own weight

  while their mothers

  sang rapturous spirituals

  by age 13 filled 500 lb sacks

  and lived the blues

  those were good ol’ days

  not having to use the whip

  was more civilized

  for plantation owners

  sharecropping and extending debt

  was almost more profitable

  than slavery

  ROTTEN FRUIT

  Byron De La Beckwith

  I.

  I fish for pleasure and to relax.

  It’s the best way

  to sort out details of a plan

  that needs flawless execution.

  Every useful thing I know

  I learned sitting in the bottom

  of a boat across from my granddaddy

  in one of Mississippi’s finest

  fishing holes. How to

  pick out the best spot. How to

  get there early. How to lay

  low, be patient and wait.

  II.

  Watching your cork disappear

  in the water, bob back up and run

  is as thrilling as sneaking your hand

  up under a pretty girl’s skirt.

  They all put up a lil’ fight, at first

  but sooner or later a lucky man

  will get his hands on a cat;

  a patient man, inside a big wide mouth.

  There’s something about the thought

  of a wet body, flapping about

  and gasping for breath

  that gives me chills, even now.

  III.

  Sometimes we’d just sit and smoke,

  swim in some ice cold beers,

  enjoy the sound of no women around

  or shoot at ghosts if fish weren’t biting.

  Sometimes we’d get drunk and argue

  for hours about who would win

  in a fair fight between his nigger, jack,

  and that nigger, joe louis.

  IV.

  He rode me hard for bragging

  about catching the big one,

  but I know he bragged even harder

  about teaching me how to fish.

  Niggers are proof that

  Indians fucked buffalo.

  —ANONYMOUS

  HUMOR ME

  Byron De La Beckwith

  I was raised with the word nigger

  in my mouth. In this part of the south

  it is considered our silver spoon.

  It practically lived in every good joke

  I heard growing up in Mississippi.

  The only other good ones were about sex.

  But I’ve seen bad jokes about niggers and sex

  kick all the power of whiskey right off

  the front porch, turn it into something so mean,

  somebody would have to get smacked around

  to stir that power back up again. Sometimes

  it was a dog too friendly for drunks.

  Sometimes it was a girlfriend or a wife

  who wandered grinning into our man-talk

  and snickered at all the wrong parts.

  If there weren’t no women or dogs around,

  us men would pile into a truck and ride off towards

  the coon side of town, looking for something funny.

  You can never turn that word

  around and make it cool….

  It’s not a word of love.

  —CHUCK D

  THE N-WORD

  Charles Evers

  Hearing that word launched

  from the back of any throat

  brings back the smell

  of German shepherd breath

  of fresh gasoline

  and sulfur air

  of fear—both ours and theirs.

  I hear nine brave children

  walking a gauntlet of hate in Little Rock

  and four innocent little girls
/>
  lifted up to heaven too soon.

  Instead of a rebel yell

  I hear a rifle bark.

  Instead of a whiskey-soaked yee haw

  I hear a window break

  and children sobbing for a father

  face down in a pool of blood.

  I hear all my faith collapse

  on the wings of a woman’s scream.

  I can’t hear anything less

  and absolutely nothing funny.

  Pastoral scene of the gallant south …

  —ABEL MEEROPOL,

  “Strange Fruit,” sung by

  Billie Holiday

  SOUTHERN SPORTS

  Byron De La Beckwith

  Sometimes it starts with a bonfire

  or begins with taunting and spitting

  quickly graduating to cursing

  and punching and kicking

  some body as hard as you can

  for the sheer joy of causing them pain

  as entertainment for the crowd now

  celebrating the crack or pop of broken bodies

  showering outstanding individual

  violence with applause and cheers.

  All you need is some body wearing

  the color you’ve been taught to hate

  some body threatening to take

  what’s rightfully yours

  and a little girl with her thighs exposed

  held high in the air and screaming.

  … there was a sign saying

  “Welcome Home De lay” and

  when I got in the outskirts of

  Greenwood, there was another

  one. It brought tears to my eyes.

  BYRON DE LA BECKWITH DREAMING I

  Mamma’s holding a baby

  with perfect blue eyes

  she drops it when a tea kettle

  screams

  she reaches for me

  but I start to float away

  there is a sound like a loud

  hand clap and suddenly

  I’m floating face up

  in a thick warm soup

  the air smells like our bathroom

  when Willie’s on the rag

  I drink down all the soup and a crowd

  gathers around me singing “Dixie”

  I’D WISH I WAS IN DIXIE TOO

  If your family’s wealth depended on those

  you enslaved and the cotton they spun into gold;

  if your intellectual superiority depended on

  hundreds of years of denying literacy to others

  while your color confirmed your right to do so;

  if the thought of being responsible for your own

  hoeing, planting, chopping, picking, smithing,

  raking, mucking, shoeing, milking, smoking,

  canning, baking, hauling, cooking, serving,

  sweeping, washing, ironing, fixing, nursing,

  mending, dusting, and cleaning makes you tired;

  then I understand why you love that song so much.

  PART II

  Southern Dreams

  FIRE PROOF

  Willie De La Beckwith

  He would come home

  from evening rallies and secret meetings

  so in love with me

  I could never see nothing wrong

  with what he did with his hands.

  I just pretended I didn’t know

  what gunpowder smelled like

  or why he kept his rifles so clean.

  If he walked through that door

  and said, “Willie, burn these clothes,”

  I’d pile them on the coals and stare

  at the fire. I’d listen to the music

  twix the crackle and calm as we danced.

  And while the ashes gathered ’round

  their own kind in the bottom of the grate

  I’d watch the embers glow like our bedroom did.

  Now, I ain’t saying he was right or wrong.

  He often confused hatred with desire.

  But if you ain’t never set a man on fire,

  felt him explode inside you then die in your arms,

  honey, you got no idea what I’m talking about.

  It was a touch. It was a look …

  It was music playing.

  —MYRLIE EVERS

  LISTENING TO MUSIC

  The right song slow dancing through the air

  at the end of a long day full of kids

  and no husband, could not only set the tone,

  but put the sound of yesterday back in the air.

  Smokey Robinson and the Miracles crooned

  all the sweet words that his eyes whispered

  across the doorframe when he finally came home,

  but more often than not, it was Sam Cooke

  and Ray Charles or Bobby Blue Bland taking turns

  in my ears, reminding me how much I loved that man

  no matter how mad or lonely I might have felt.

  The right song was like a Kodak Brownie of us cuddling

  or an atlas mapping out all our rough spots

  and the ways around them. After sweet talking him out

  of his suit and tie, after he unloaded the day’s burdens,

  we melted together in the dark, beneath the covers

  and the crackle of the radio. The sound of my guys

  singing backup and Medgar’s jack hammer heart

  finally slowing to match our leaky faucet, as he fell asleep

  in my arms, completing the soundtrack for a perfect night.

  LIFE APES ART APES LIFE: BYRON DE LA BECKWITH REFLECTS ON BIRTH OF A NATION

  I was told that the president of these United States

  said that film was truth written in lightning

  25,000 proud hooded knights marched

  through Atlanta just to celebrate the opening.

  What an electric moment it must have been

  sitting in a whites only theater

  being right there in the balcony, beside Booth

  when that pretty little bullet kissed Lincoln on the head

  laughing out loud at clown nigger politicians

  pretending to run meetings and pass laws

  wiping their asses on the Constitution

  pissing on the South and calling it reconstruction

  How hard it must have been to sit on your hands

  and not shoot at the moving pictures when the actors

  made up like coons chased after white women.

  I can almost hear the crowd whoop and shout

  when the heroes thundered into town at the end,

  white robes, hoods and guns gleaming in the sun

  dispensing an Old Testament justice on the screen

  as clear as Revelations for Christian men like me.

  WHITE OF WAY

  after A. Van Jordan

  Byron De La Beckwith

  [White] Power, noun

  1 belief in the fact that all white people have the God given and constitutionally guaranteed right to exercise, encourage, promote, celebrate and defend the privilege of being born superior to other races.

  [White] Pride, noun

  1 a feeling of deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from the knowledge that all members of other races possess behaviors or abilities that distinguish them as inferior with the obvious exception of athletes, musicians, and comedians like Amos and Andy who make white folks laugh so hard they damn near piss themselves. The same goes for the tap dancing nigger butler on the Shirley Temple Show, and that nigger Uncle Ben on the rice box. They’re all always shuffling and bent over with big ol’ dickless grins on their faces. They’re the only niggers a white man could ever trust with his daughters.

  [White] Privilege, see Colonialism, Apartheid, and Manifest Destiny.

  Synonyms: Patriot, Religious Right, Conservative Christian, Staunch Segregationist, proud American, active Klansman, card carrying member of the Citizens Council, Mississippi Sovereignty Commission, Re
deemers; commonly confused with racist, xenophobe, or bigot.

  MUSIC, NIGGERS & JEWS

  Byron De La Beckwith

  Long before George Jones and others

  had folks all over the country hungry

  for a weekly plate of Hee Haw

  and the Grand Ole Opry, TV pretended

  regular, hardworking, blue collar,

  proud-to-be-white folks, didn’t exist.

  Johnny Cash went on Carson in ’64

  and damn near set the stage on fire.

  His songs was real music—not none

  of that monkey shine they tried to sell

  with white faces on the cover.

  But as good as Johnny was and is,

  American Bandstand, Rock ’n Roll,

  and them long-haired sissies from England

  made living rooms full of our young

  almost apologize for being born white.

  Dick Clark is no better than a nigger to me

  and the Jews that control television is even less.

  SWAMP THING

  Willie De La Beckwith

  My ears were field with cotton.

  My throat had been lynched shut.

  I was chained to something as big

  and long and dark as Mississippi herself.

  Magnolia trees were bleeding. The floor

  was turning to marsh beneath my feet.

  I called out for help, but only laughter

  and spit came out of my whip.

  When I felt the cold metal hounds

  biting my ankles, I sat up in bed,

  screaming and chasing my breath,

  only to find my husband

  grinning and tickling my feet.

  STAND BY YOUR MAN

  Willie De La Beckwith

  Like any smart woman

  I’ve stormed out

  even divorced him once

 

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