United States, (1933-2019)
King: April 4, 1968
for Eva Ray
- When I was a child
- in the Fall the axes fell
- in Alabama and I tried
- to be somewhere else,
- but the squeals of the pigs dying
- and hogs and the sight of their
- opened throats were everywhere.
- I wasn’t given that kind of stomach.
- When I was 14, I killed
- my last thing bigger than a mouse
- with my Daisy Red Ryder,
- a fat robin on a telephone wire,
- still singing,
- as my first shot went high
- I sighted down and heard from where I was
- the soft thud of the copper pellet in his
- fat red breast. It just stopped
- and fell over backwards
- and I had run away
- before it hit the ground, taking
- my stomach with me.
- I’ll never know about people–
- if the soft thing in the stomach can be cut out–
- because I missed all the wars–
- but when I learned that non
- violence kills you anyway
- I wished
- I wished I could do it I wished I
- could
- do you know what it means to wish
- you could kill to
- wish you were given that?
- But I am
- me. Whatever made me made
- you, and I anesthetize the soft thing
- to stop squirming when
- you do it brothers I shout
- righton righton rightON
- my heart is with you
- though my stomach is still in Alabama pig
- pens.
About the Poet:
Gerald William Barrax, United States, (1933-2019), was a poet, educator and literary editor. Barrax earned a bachelor’s degree from Duquesne University, and a master’s degree in English from the University of Pittsburgh. He then moved to North Carolina, where he joined, first black teacher, the faculty of North Carolina State University in 1970. He retired from teaching in 1997.
Barrax has also been a poetry editor for the journal Callaloo, the premier journal of literature, art, and culture of the African Diaspora. He also worked as editor of Obsidian, a publication that reviews Black Literature through publication and critical inquiry of contemporary poetry, fiction, drama/performance, visual and media art of Africans globally. [DES-01/22]