by Shawn E Hamilton

Created on: April 10, 2011   Last Updated: August 15, 2011

"Lawn Jockeys"      

Grandpa’s White Cadillac

Rolls down a narrow drive-

Pompous air-conditioned

Past enameled lawn jockeys

To the plantation gate.

Pall of hot summer dust

Settles on sackcloth:

The Negro children, running,

Staring at White Folks

Peering out

From their cool interior.

Old Tom ambles out to greet us warmly.

I am four years old saying loudly:

“There’s a blue man!”

The people laugh. 

Nervously they laugh, and I am corrected:

They are not blue.

Risen to the smells of grits and biscuits

Neatly dressed in cottons

Hand-picked a dark night before,

I meander through summer gardens

Not thinking of fall.

Each morning I bring candy to the darkies.

Each morning I feed sugar to the horses.

They bring the horses out

Sweating

And together run in circles on a fast track.

While Grandpa holds a stopwatch.

Crack of a whip.

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