A Yankee Lost In Georgia

If ever: worry for
Your everlasting soul boy as
You cross the State Line and
South Carolina is a day's ride. Even Atlanta
And Savannah are
White miles,
Boy, as road
Worn as you are and
Worry.

All the ghosts of
Wars take to the highways. The
Battle has burnt out to another
Battle fire falls and
Someone remembers, boy recall
That someone Always remembers
Nature dictates that, at
Least the Marshes
Are graveyards

Worry boy. It is your eternal damnation here.

A scrap of gray. A scrap of

gray

All the bones of bitter defeat linger
Restless here boy. Summer storms, you
Have miles to go, boy, miles upon miles of
Things(night)Things that do nothing But
Remember and the roads are submerged
Here boy:

North
Or
East or West
Or
South

Is all the same. Hurry on, boy. Home is
Among the Forgiven. Here is but
The Damned you
Wonder of your
Immortal soul here, boy, and what
The Lord feels among the palmetto
Shoots is His business, what Side taken
Here among the bare bones of the Past.

Not your past, boy. Hurry on.

And the bones…

Fires flicker at twilight
Shadow on the paper. Your hand
Is shaking.