Читать книгу Magic City Gospel - Ashley M. Jones - Страница 9

EATING RED DIRT IN GREENSBORO, ALABAMA

I ate red dirt for the first time

with Aunt Hattie—big, brown blind angel

who listened to local crimes

on her police scanner. Its monotone lullaby

crooned all through the night, piercing, faithful.

When she heard it was my first time,

she sent us to the hill. We scraped it off, tried

to ignore the ants and the strange, dull

sour scent. Stealing dirt, a local crime,

only punished by whatever was hiding inside

our Ziploc bags: a pillbug, a ladybug’s broken shell.

Back from the hunt, for the first time

I realized how citified

I really was, scared of something so full

of local germs. But was it a crime

to fear eating dirt? Finally, my Southern pride

made me put it to my lips, resist the acidic pull

of bile in my throat. And for the first time,

I felt like a local, swallowing this bittersweet crime.