Southern Fried Weirdness

By Jim Carson

In a land that marks time with tides
Obscured from the manicured fairway green
And gleaming white fiberglass yachts of the
Well heeled shrimp
Beyond the line marked by fig ivy and stucco walls
Lesser ingredients stir in this low country boil
Gullah and other forgotten souls
Hardscrabble dirt nail people wrest a living from sea and soil
Unfettered by the burdens of higher education
But rich in wisdom they toil, live, and love
In the shadows of paradise
They are born from earth, never venture far
And in death return
Their ghosts are everywhere
Hovering over fallow fields and tangled oak hammocks
Phantom footsteps rustling through the marsh grass like a gentle breeze
And if you listen
Carefully
You can hear them whispering
When the cicadas pause for breath

Jim Carson is an Architect living in Atlanta with his wife, daughter and Snickers the wonder dog. His work has been published in numerous journals including Clapboard House, Flutter, Muscadine Lines and The Foliate Oak. His mentor is the former Mayor of Bibb County who lives in nearby Stockbridge and enjoys tending to his latifundia.

Copyright © 2009, Jim Carson