61 La st M e al H ai ku Myrlie Evers imagine byron sitting down to eat, using his cotton shirt sleeves as substitutes for napkins, clutching a steak knife —no unleavened bread enjoying blood that drips from every single bite of his final meal imagine before he lays down to sleep, ready to meet his maker he gets on his knees and confesses all his sins in time to be saved, but when he looks up at God’s burnt brass face he thinks he has gone to hell ...