Reading on this plank
and white-washed
porch on the hottest
day of the year.
This is the humid
twilight of the
deep south, of
history, of calloused
plantation slaves turning
on beds of straw
and hardened dirt, and
white women in
white cotton
underthings fanning their
faces, under a ring
of flying beetles,
bathed in sweat, and
(fading) lantern light.
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