***

At the market they never have what I need:

sofke corn, dried pea hulls,

canuche balls wrapped in foil,

baby food jars of bacon grease,

possum grapes, wild onions,

poke salad, great big catfish,

piles of perch stunned by devil’s shoestring,

masa harina for making cvtvhvkv

(although occasionally they have some

in the foreign foods section),

communion bread made by fasting women

singing prayers until dawn,

new corn stirred in a black kettle

under a brush arbor, nachos

from your cousin’s softball game,

sweet tea all day long, coffee

to take to your uncles on the bench

outside the camphouse, pig’s feet

and hominy (although they have the hominy

in the foreign foods section and the rest of the pig

at the butcher), women to help me cook,

men to bring in wood, boys to bring in water,

girls to set the table, babies to lick the ribs,

real stuff to eat, the right people to eat it with.

Originally published in This Land, Vol. 6, Issue 5, March 1, 2015.