Some call me Booker,
some call me John, some
call me Jim, some call me—
This is my place
I say, meaning where
I work but more
the green bar I tend
& keep, the mouths I feed
not only my child-
ren, who I want better for
than me—the slenderest
tall trees. The willows
who weep. What should
my place be? It is loudest
here after the black descends,
gathers in the Mississippi
leaves, first green then
dark like me—my first
name’s Mack but nobody
calls me that. I’m named
for a man who made
his name at Tuskegee
which ain’t that
far from here
I hear.