GRAMMAW DIDAH IN THE COTTON MILL
- Didah’s skeletal fingers hummingbird across the loom,
- pulling bright threads through metal eyes.
- Her head darts from drawing to threads,
- translating one to another.
- The child studies this from the stool that normally
- meets her grammaw’s broganed feet
- which dangle now, keeping time in the air with the beats
- of shuttles and motors all around the Weaving Room.
- The grandmother nods
- to a shirtless man in overalls
- and her loom leaps to life,
- colors bolting across the warp lines she has set.
- The girl watches the paper painting appear in cotton.
- Blowsy roses and modest buds, honeysuckle vines,
- tiny checks, climb up the face of the clattering loom,
- square by square, bud by bloom.
- The miracle grows and Didah, arms folded,
- smiles and aims a shot of Red Man at the snuff can,
- a perfect hit.