Dukes Barbecue

the wait staff sets checkered tables with salt

pepper, ketchup, napkins, & a loaf of white bread

what we called Wonder Bread when I was a child

the loaves are sealed in plastic, & we never

open them, never eat a slice, but work crews do

as do ginormous fat men, we wonder aloud

whether open loaves are replaced between diners

why eat bread when once you pay for your meal

you can go back for more as many times as you want

brisket, ribs, chicken, red rice, butter beans, fried okra

banana pudding, sheet cake . . . grease, salt, & sugar

I try not to go more than once a quarter, friends go

once a week, do work crews go every day?

afterward I feel queasy, maybe a slice of white bread

would settle my stomach, when I pass the Dukes sign

I turn my eyes to the other side of Folly Road

Premier Medical, Charleston Fire Department

Station 13 . . . places I could stop & beg for relief

Red Is the Color of China

my brother dug a deep, then deeper hole

the backyard hole to nowhere

what kind of a family allows for that kind of hole?

through the earth to the other side, he said

like the cop who dug until his shovel

hit something solid, the wrist of a murdered woman

if you dig long enough you might find the why

. . . accident, crime, bad blood, old age . . .

knowing the why doesn’t relieve the ache

from the window I watched my brother dig

or I stood close but not too close to the rim of the hole

in case he decided to throw dirt at me

he was covered in dirt while I was taught to be clean

it took me ten years to relearn dirty

to throw sod root-side up into trenches

pile dark soil on top, my first growing season

. . . babies, vegetables, extra-marital tomfoolery . . . 

when photographs are black & white

blood might be paint, or vice versa

Capital Punishment

two states choose to execute two convicted men

perhaps they did wrong, perhaps they did no wrong

twenty plus years in prison means nearly every cell

in the men’s bodies has been replaced three times

their bodies remake themselves yet can’t shed

their criminal identification . . . now they’re dead

to satisfy someone’s powerful urge to rule others

because each of us individually cannot rule ourself

shall it be life or death? be my guest, you choose