Pickens' Plantation
by Coleman Bomar
They bought the Pickens’ plantation
On Tennessee’s sweaty land
And sold the old slave cabin
To a pencil company
Because red anguish writes better than lead
But still tastes the same
The hard wood under the rug was bloodstained
The windows warped by southern air attitude
They added a tv to the living room
Grandkid portraits hung in the kitchen
But the house remembered
Thundering branches of those blue gray boys like bruises upon the grass
And a bloodied whip which dangled from the basement door
About the Author
Coleman Bomar is a poet who currently resides in Middle Tennessee.He is a member of the International English Honor Society, Sigma Tau Delta, and an Isaac Anderson Fellow at Maryville College. His works have been accepted by Impressions Literary Magazine, Eskimo Pie Review, Aphelion Webzine, Heartland Review, Literary Yard, and Anti-Heroin Chic.