Gumby

She was well into her fifties,
when daddy ran her down
on the road to enlightenment.
Eighteen wheels of ignorance
never leaves a pretty roadkill.

There had been signs along the way
of course, but they were hidden
by the forest of family trees.

Sounds of daddy, raging at the televison
as Dr. King marched into history,
blended with the aroma
of mama's fried chicken in the kitchen.

Every Sunday, the straight and narrow
road to heaven; singing-
Jesus loves the little children
all the children of the world...
in the little white church- inside and out.

“Of course you're welcome at the family reunion,
it's been sixty years for the folks now,
but, about your grandson, sis...”

No niggers in the family photos, even if they are blood.

Daddy always taught us, when you're driving
you don't swerve for a rabbit in the road.