True Blue
I am of Kentucky,
suburban-raised,
Tudor-style down the street
from Starbucks and Panera,
far from hollers and
gravel roads to algae-capped
ponds where bullfrogs croak
away on summer evenings
like they believe there’s no tomorrow.
Ashamed to say
so little do I know about coal
or the harvest of tobacco,
but I can attest to
the river that flows
past my city,
the seam it cuts
through the valley,
its cold, black heart
when flooding,
yet most days lazing
the color of cured leaf,
and sometimes,
it seems out of vinegar
and spite,
that of the weak whiskey
they make down
in Tennessee.
15 thoughts on "True Blue"
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Oh snap, Bill!
Love: “but I can attest to/the river that flows/past my city,/
the seam it cuts/through the valley, its cold, black heart”
The beginning reminds me of George Ella Lyon, and the dig at the end made me laugh!
This is such an important poem. The voice of the in-between or the person who thinks they are not quite enough of the geographic whateverness. Brings to the page an invisible discomfort a lot of people have about enoughness and place. Thank you for sharing it.
Take that, Tennessee! I like how you come to grips with the Kentucky people think you ought to know and the Kentucky you DO know now.
I agree with Elle. There’s much that the in-between holds that is often overlooked. I especially loved this:
“but I can attest to
the river that flows
past my city,
the seam it cuts
through the valley,
its cold, black heart
when flooding,
yet most days lazing
the color of cured leaf,”
Stunning.
I was raised in Tennessee but I prefer Kentucky!
I love how you earned yourself credit at the end. a most fun poem
Nice, Bill. I too feel a bit left out of Kentucky’s gritty legacy, being from elsewhere. But we have our own dark legacies, wherever we are.
I agree that Tennessee whiskey is generally swill…
Very nice meandering to a worhty ending, Bill.
Ah!!! LOVE the clever dig at that weak TN whiskey at the end.
Also the visual and truth of:
its cold, black heart
“when flooding,
yet most days lazing
the color of cured leaf,”
Whoops. Messed up my quotation marks. You get it, though. lol.
Gorgeous imagery and a gorgeous tribute to you being “true blue.” I especially love the rich imagery that follows the turn “but I can attest to”. And that closing jab was great!
I always hoped that Kentucky would be found in the heart and not the physicalities. Love how you bridge your suburban river with the tobacco “the color of cured leaf.”
You described that river wonderfully. And there are many folks from Kentucky that would read this and say, “That’s me!” Well done capturing those that don’t necessarily fit the state’s traditional trope.