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Rating: 4.6
We tell the story every year—
how we peered from the windows, shades drawn—
though nothing really happened,
the charred grass now green again.
We peered from the windows, shades drawn,
at the cross trussed like a Christmas tree,
the charred grass still green. Then
we darkened our rooms, lit the hurricane lamps.
At the cross trussed like a Christmas tree,
a few men gathered, white as angels in their gowns.
We darkened our rooms and lit hurricane lamps,
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roberta gould 11 October 2020
what a frightening poem about KKK visit..told with understatement...How they must have been holding their breaths...and..." Nothing Happened" j
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M Asim Nehal 20 July 2016
Excellent poem, you nailed incidence with this poem.
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Susan Williams 14 November 2015
A magnificent write. One line says Nothing really happened..... Everything mean and cruel had just happened. So so so well written!
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