Cotton Queen Poem by James McLain

Cotton queens we call them....
live only for the south....
better than some are the others.....
Bags in one hand...
holding it out..from the other.....
Bales off white set..around them..
it sets them off...all that cotton....
like sundresses....
and humidity...is...
Having to keep up...on them...
and when your tired...
and not looking...at those bales..
that they lean against...
are again as much as they are....
and then....
only good such..to the men folk...
while the seamstress stays busy...
hidden there....
and there hollows..show..
Them women about the town...
don't rightly cotton...to that...
With there men..folk..being..
unless there in there own..
The cotton lets only..the most...
familial of the queens...and she...
being the hottest under the sun....
is permitted to think thoughts on cotton...
We cotton to that in the south...
Them there....cotton and queens..