The long back way
John Clare Stokes
I take the long back way
Down the Cline Feagle lane
in the lower part of the county
Pass where Cline burned to death
In his running truck
The brick chimney marking the spot
Up the road where I see
They tore down the tenants home
Wood stacked for another’s flooring
The blooming gardenia out of place
Without a front door for balance
The way is lined with gladiolus
Red to orange variety
The old stock
At the intersection the implements sit
Rusting through yet another season
I enter the section of lined pine
Thinking I’m on some Tour de European
Slow in case a fox squirrel is crossing over
The end is nearing when at the Tabor Cemetery
Crows scold and head off toward Aldine’s
His road with the split rail and cane mill
These Feagle’s mostly a peculiar people
I resume my journey through their
Ghostly Territory.
Wondering how Shadrack ever wound up here.
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