Читать книгу American Happiness - Jacqueline Trimble - Страница 8

EVERYBODY IN AMERICA HATE THE SOUTH

That land filled to the rafters

with ghosts of lynched boys and attics full

of souvenirs—dried ears, fingers, genitalia

like prunes—the sweet Magnolia memory

of Miss Scarlett calling for Mammy who

has now grown some dreadlocks and owns

the chicken restaurant on the boulevard.

America ought to say

thank you, Miss South, thank you for being like

Jesus and taking on the sins of the whole country

or being our crazy Aunt Hazel who runs naked

through a house full of company shouting

all the foolish things we think but can’t say

so we can walk around all post-racial

and watch Gone With the Wind over and over

swooning from the romance.