Hayden Carruth (1921-2008)
Honey I’d split your kindling
clean & bright
& fine
if you was mine
baby baby
I’d taken to you like my silky hen
my bluetick bitch my sooey sow
my chipmunk my finchbird
& my woodmouse
if you was living at my house
I’d mulch your strawberries & cultivate
your potato patch
all summer long
& then in winter
come thirty below and the steel-busting weather
I’d tune your distributor & adjust
your carburetor
if me & you was together
be it sunshine be it gloom
summer or the mean mud season
honey I’d kiss you
every morningtime
& evenings I’d hurry
to get shut of the barn chores early
& then in the dark of the night
I’d stand at the top of the stairs & hold the light
for you for you
if you’d sleep in my room
& when old crazy come down the mountain after you
with his big white pecker in his hand
you would only holler
& from the sugar house
the mow the stable
or wherever I’m at
I’d come god I’d come running to you
like a turpentined cat
only in our bed
honey
no hurting
but like as if it was
git- music
or new-baked bread
I’d fuck so easy
sweet-talking & full of love
if you was just my daisy
& my dove
* * *
English Department professor Meredith Martin writes: