Mama you made beautiful quilts
To wrap us in,
And little shoes for my little feet.
You brought okra from a seed
In our family country garden,
Turning over the earth in the summer,
topless.

Mama you made delicious meals,
From tiny harvests
(which i sometimes tossed to the floor).
You made the ends of nothing meet,
With Christian magic —
When we had all had enough to eat
we collected basketfuls, leftover.

Mama you prayed with us,
And told us Jesus was real,
Even in the wild woods of West Virginia.
Singing sweetly off key,
“Jesus, come. Lord Jesus, come!”

And mama, i remember one night –
It was dark so very dark-
A knock banging knock
A-rose from the wilds.
And “Why won’t you let him in?”
knock bang knock-
it wouldn’t stop-
And “Where’s daddy? It’s his friend”
banging knock banging –
and i’ve never seen a rape,
though you have,
have been -

Oh, Thank God, Thank God
You didn’t let him in.
Oh, mama what you’ve seen
Mama you’ve seen too much.
i wish i could’ve roared at the man,
At all those men
To leave you be, to let you be.

But i was two and you,
And you were twenty-one.
‘Twasn’t long ‘fore we left from home,
We (you and i and Ben)
We moved to the city
with a basketful of crumbs.