York’s slave wife
I don’t think York knowed
I could see hur too.
Da furst time was in da corna a his eye
while he look far off but stare at
da plate right in front a him.
He didn’t say nothin’ bout hur
but da way his lips turnt up at da ends
said plenny.
I ain’t one t’sass. His growl help me
to know a slave woman’s place
so I sits up all night wit both my hands
an ears open, waitin’ t’catch hur name
on his lips.
Afta dat, no matta how much he talk
a grizzlies, buffalos, big fish,
mountains, or ochians
she become all I can see
all I wants t’know
It gets so crowded in our lil’ place
I swears I can almost smell hur.
An by den I knows one a us will have t’go.