restricted access Byron De La Beckwith Dreaming I
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11 Byr o n D e La B ec kwith Dr eam i ng I Mamma’s holding a baby with perfect blue eyes she drops it when a tea kettle screams she reaches for me but I start to float away there is a sound like a loud hand clap and suddenly I’m floating face up in a thick warm soup the air smells like our bathroom when Willie’s on the rag I drink down all the soup and a crowd gathers around me singing “Dixie” . . .there was a sign saying “Welcome Home De lay” and when I got in the outskirts of Greenwood, there was another one. It brought tears to my eyes. ...


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Subject Headings

  • Evers, Medgar Wiley, 1925-1963 -- Poetry.
  • United States -- Race relations -- Poetry.
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