Don’t Sing

Mama used to belt em out

singin on the ride

up home from town,

us all in the hay cart and

Old Daphne pullin

and gruntin and flickin her tail.

That was fore Suzy went

to be with Jesus.

See, one Sunday

after we all listened to Preacher,

got home with nothin

but a lazy afternoon ahead,

I was fixin to ride old Daphne,

had her saddled up,

when Suzy runs from behind

spooks the old girl,

and Daphne,

she spooks easy—

She’s a kicker.

I seen Suzy’s hair catch wind,

a strawberry blonde fan

fore she crumpled in the dirt

twitchin and screamin.

And I done somethin

can’t remember what

but I done somethin

‘sides just stand there with

a hole like a double barrel blast

eatin at my chest

till I couldn’t breathe no more,

I swear.

The years,

they stopped carin

bout Suzy,

But mama didn’t.

Come to think on it,

I can’t remember

the last time

I heard mama sing.

It’s strange how the days layer

And weigh on you years later

Matt Maeson

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