Stories Old and Cold 1939
The priest was serving Mass
Kyrie Eleison Kyrie Eleison
No one heard them enter
They marched down the center aisle
The candles flickered
Pennies for the poor
Our Lady of the Angels was under siege
The cloth covered men were hunting
They passed under the Stations of the Cross.
Everyone held their breath
It was dangerous to be Catholic in the South
No words were said
The KKK left as they had entered, silently
They later found their prey
On Detroit St.
They drug him out of the house
It was a public display
He was in his underwear
Fashionable Tidy Whities
They beat his back and buttocks
Until the threads of his underwear were imbedded in his skin
No hanging
Just asphalt
This poem is about a young man who was Catholic. Living in Jacksonville, Florida. He had an extramarital affair and the KKK were going to set him straight. Teach him a lesson. My mother, who was 11 at this time, relayed the story of them coming into the church. My aunt would tell about his beating and the threads of his underwear being stuck into his skin. I researched underwear. And yes, they had just become fashionable.
The KKK chose to beat him and leave him laying in the street. Down the road on Old Kings Road they were prancing on their horses in full regalia. Lynching.
I do see this as an example of white privilege. I am beginning to understand through the course of conversation that those words have a different meaning to different people. It triggers alien internal contexts inside of us. Pulling dormant concepts to the surface.
I am a Cracker/by birth – A Redneck by Default – And a peace activist through reading, writing and education.
Fish Eye Farm 