Bitter Thirst, by Marian Y. Brooks

magnolia whispers

seasonal fires–working

like deep swamp mosquito breezes

picking the antebellum harvest

swallowing hard

my share of rural produce

rancid in summer’s heat

plucked

 from crooked branches

that blossom my race like apples

and I

surrounded by southern stock

discover my glass

and

have me a sweet drink of tradition

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