Are You Washed In The Blood?

Boar Tush, Alabama 1957

Harold Whit Williams

Old Henry, mother's daddy, is struck By a neighbor's white lightning. He falls,
A-trembled, to his knees. They sink and suck
Into the reddish mud. He frowns and pulls
Another sup. Beneath his humming hive Of bees he cries – O Lord, am I a sinner?
Too many pretty legs for me to give
Attention to! And nary a word at dinner,
Kind or otherwise, from my own woman. Too tight, is Henry, to feel the stinging bee
Upon his neck. Another sign, an omen
Of sorts – the fallen leaves from maple trees
That pool and pond like drops from a wound.
O God! He yelps. Is your answer only wind?

Harold Whit Williams is a prize-winning poet and also guitarist for the critically acclaimed rock band Cotton Mather. He is a 2018 Pushcart Prize Nominee, recipient of the 2014 Mississippi Review Poetry Prize, and his collection Backmasking was winner of the 2013 Robert Phillips Poetry Chapbook Prize from Texas Review Press. Williams' latest, My Heavens, is available from FutureCycle Press. He lives in Austin, Texas, where he stays  busy writing, solo home recording (Daily Worker, The French Riot), and cataloging music for the University of Texas.