The Villiage Idiot During the Reconstruction

A red light swings, a train bell
clangs, you all got to stop, but I

stumble out onto the tracks, balance
on a tie, visible, vulnerable. Look

at that 'coon's corpse, its stuck up
paws. Was its soul freed by an angel?

Deep in my dumb brain, the word
emancipation pushes back against

my senses. Piss stinks up the wet
air where, in a dull breeze the flesh

can't hardly feel, the kudzu
tongues flutter, "Wait here. Hug

whatever dark freedom crashes
into your wide-open arms, your trap."