SHANE MCCRAE

 


CHILDREN

 

Was married but the Master kept me pregnant

Robert my husband knew       he knew

The girls weren’t his / Samuel wasn’t his

But Thomas was the oldest was



Robert and I were still     children ourselves / Robert

was fifteen I was sixteen when

Thomas was born

Except no nigger ever was a child

Was when before my



father my / First master     sold the farm

And Robert even

then he always did a grown man’s work

Except no nigger ever was grown

And Robert he / Wanted me more

With every child that wasn’t his     / And he

with every child that wasn’t his

loved Thomas less



And when I went     after the boys / After Priscilla

with the shovel

To save them from the Master

I hit Thomas the hardest




                                  +++





WITH THE INFANT MARY GARNER'S BODY IN HIS ARMS



And carried her her     body back / On horseback back he

tried to carry her

Mary’s body back / Across the river

Through Covington to Maplewood



Wanted to carry her argued     with the other slave

Catchers he tried

the Master tried     to argue

wanted



To argue carry her     and wouldn’t give

her body to the coroner     / Not

right away     but sat     down on the porch

Sobbing and



Choking on words the others / His

neighbors and the marshals

couldn’t understand

As Mary’s blood




Dried on his forearms

Tangled the hairs together




                                  +++





MARGARET GARNER IN CANAAN LAND


My father once     took me across the river

To Cincinnati I was seven not

My father but my master     on the ferry



and the lawyer says / I could have claimed my freedom then

White men in Cincinnati

would have fought to make me free

Lawyers like him



And I was seven had a woman’s hands my hands

Were small and used to work      my father’s wife would never do / Were

like my mother’s hands



I touched my father’s hand

in the moment he      lifted me to the roof of the bus

To sit me next to the driver



And my hand didn’t burn or ache       / And no

part of me ached



And as we drove      the faces

of the white men in the street

All blurred together      just below my feet / I thought they would



trample me if I fell



TYPO 14