Smoke Has Its Legions, and: A Barren River Sampler

Two Poems by Art Coelho Smoke Has Its Legions Smoke has its legions above these tobacco farms; holler hillsides anchor their mists into old hardwood clearings where natives once stuck their lances into settlement bones; these ancient shrouds ride scarred ridges layering vision upon vision as Boone's voice filtered down a buffalo trace. Mimosa whispers history's leaves where creek bottoms and long rifles run all-American blood still churning for freedom; some redcoat formation sweetening Kentucky sights. The Shawnee deals with the Crown's hand; a war dance burying loved ones in the dust. It's Jackson vengeance furrowed again in broken-treaty lust. A momentary victory darkens, and fair hair hangs lifeless from a leather thong: every hymn for the wild now losing its beauty where scalp becomes song. 38 A Barren River Sampler At Barren River Lake the water weaves shadows, witching us a dream between catfish whiskers and the shoreline fireflies green-blinking whims. And watch out for that copperhead in old abandoned maple limbs down the uneven seed-tick trail, where deer eyes loom like sumac, and night birds spook the gentle solitude in the forgiving dark. Out in the Bee Craft the fishfinder signals the swimming croppie depths; our lines bob the bottom six inches at a time; and the long-pole fiberglass rhythm waves the live-bait cricket dance. Along the limestone ledges layer upon layer darkens from old stumps and logs in the cool shade where new lake memories are made— we harvest sunsets in quiet fishermen voices, forming the sounds with our cove breath. Now it comes down to a menu in a poem on Jim's kitchen table: a Barren River Sampler catfish and bluegill fillets. 39 ...