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Grave
Digger
His
name is Otis Cox
and the graves he digs with a spade are acts of love.
The red clay holds like concrete
still he makes it give up a place
for rich caskets and poor
working with sweat and sand
in the springing tightness of his hair.
Saying that machine digging
don't seem right if you know
the dead person
his pauses are slow as the digging
a foot always on the shovel.
Shaking a sad and wet face
drying his sorrow with a dust orange white handkerchief
he delivers a eulogy
Miz
Ruth always gimme a dipper of water
Then
among quail calls and blackeyed Susans
Otis Cox shapes with grunt and sweat and shovel
a perfect work
a mystical place
a last connection with the living hand.
-
James A. Autry, Nights Under A Tin Roof.
© 1983. All rights reserved. |
