JAMIE SUE AUSTIN

Pa put on his
Sunday-go-to-Meet’ns
hemmed and hawed
and pawed
at the tie—
wearing a tie
was like being
hitched to a plow— 
he said.

The pastor
talked on the evils
of tobacco and gin—
said a tobacco farmer
was as bad as a gin-runner
for giving out vices.

Pa fell back
into the kitchen chair,
stripped his tie—
like a long dark leaf—
and said:

“My land is bought
and paid for.  I ain’t
gonna be no city boy’s
mule.”

and went outside to
greet God in the fields.

That was the end of that.
He didn’t
put on another tie.