Deep in the south, 1920's, the KKK ruled in a lot of the towns--from the justice dept., the sheriff's, etc. When momma's grandparents (who were raising her) gave a black man dinner in exchange for chopping up a pile of wood, the KKK burned a cross on their yard that night--scaring mom half to death.
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Rustlings, brisk, jumping with nightwings--
neutered, wings clipped, yet bristling with noise.
Nihility rules! It’s frightening--negritude--
the nights rider neighs, a robe flopping ‘round,
another nightmare risen up, reeling unbound.
Vengeance of intimidation, domineering whore!
Why splay allegiance on a charred cross
with oblique, angled head? Another soul . . . dead.
Spoiler, he who expostulates equality,
the nightwings find them expugnable, expunge.
Would they do so exsanguinely but no . . .
with power they exsiccate, nearly eradicate.
Obliteration gloriously anticipated
in obscure hoods masking eyes blinded by hate.
Eerie things ooze in the night, reverberate
reverently. Oblique hate triangulates quite . . . red.
Friendly, Momma saw nightwings hovering o’er her bed
but she would not yield the beliefs inside of her head
This is the story of the author’s great great grandparents, Edward Lewis and Sarah Crosby, who were convicts transported to Van Diemen’s Land in the 1840s. It is told from the perspective of a detective agency searching for what happened to Edward, w
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