Thirteen Poem by Jeffrey Quattlebaum

My Grandfather asked me

to come out to the barn

where we had some baby chickens

The barn had three stalls

and he asked

that I be down in the third stall

as soon as possible

I went and put on my rubber boots and walked to the barn

I walked through the dark

towards the light

and as I approached I could hear

the chicks

chirping

I swung open the wooden gate

and he stood there

The light bulbs

reflected in his glasses

He asked me if I thought I was a man

I didn’t know how to answer

“Not really” I said

“Well”, he said, “you sure like to talk like one.”

He took off his glasses

rolled the sleeves

of his mechanic uniform

to his elbows

and cracked his knuckles.

I stared at the chicks

They began to huddle together

and I felt like they sensed something

was about to happen

I did too

but I kept looking at them

watching him

from the corner of my eye

He undid his belt

and ripped it from around his waist,

wrapped the end of it one time around his hand

“Get over here” he said.

I moved closer

and looked down at the belt.

Then he smacked me with the other hand

and I went down to my knees.

He hit me with that belt

as I braced for each one

connecting with my back.

He stopped and I stood up

“Do you still think you are a man now? ” he said

“I never said I was.” I replied

I was leaning over the top of the chicks

and I picked one up and

threw it into the wall behind him

it fell to the floor

and flopped around.

He grabbed me by the back of my neck

and held me there

for what seemed

like days and the chicks chirped

and scattered around, frightened

and I could feel the blood trying to pump

through my constricted veins

My head was getting light

and still I stared at those chicks

Soon they would be grown

and I would cut all of their heads off

with a hatchet.

and we would eat chicken salad

everyday

I didn’t think I was a man

and never really thought about it

before then

But that night

I knew what it felt like

to be beat like one

That, I think, was what growing up

was all about

and I wore my bruises

like medals

of becoming a man.