Silence

ignorant and helpless

  He wanted their life story

  nodded his head while they shared trouble and need

  then he sat alone behind a closed door

  and decided the price of their weakness

  All of their security pledged

  the documents signed

  by faces with grimly formed lips

  then safely locked with his key

  in a metal filing cabinet

  (confession)

  Henry’s skin was black as a night sky on a new moon

  His arms thick and muscled from heavy labor

  and his thinning hair had specks of gray

  A red rag hung out of his back pocket

  a long key chain looped down from his belt and disappeared

  into the right front pocket of his blue khaki pants

  The bill of the baseball cap

  he wore from breakfast until he climbed into bed

  was rolled into a tight curve

  He slid the cap down to where the bottom edge was just above his ears

  tilted up just enough to make his round face look

  like he was about to break into a smile

  his eyes had an inquisitive open look that was alert and clear

  Twenty-five years in prison without parole

  a dark hidden streak of anger or resentment

  left from a bar fight when he was sixteen

  Henry was arrested with eight others

  His lawyers did not speak to him

  or ask why he was in the bar

  He cleaned tables and washed dishes

  nor did anyone ask how he got involved

  Slapped by a drunk who threatened to kill him

  when he picked up the man’s empty whisky bottle

  Henry pushed the man away and he fell on a table

  several drinks spilled on the clothes of two men

  who started shouting and pushing Henry and the drunk

  The drunk kicked one of them

  A man died and no one knew how

  but Henry served the time

  When the judge asked him if he killed the man

  he answered truthfully that he did not know

  Everyone else in the fight

  when asked the same question

  said no

  It was easier for a white judge to take a young black man’s

  I don’t know as yes

  simply because he did not want to dig

  into the circumstances of a dead drunk black man in a bar

  Henry’s defense lawyers were white

  the state attorney was white

  Everyone in the courtroom at the time of his “confession” was white

  No one worried that he was underage for an adult trial

  no one questioned the maximum adult sentence

  Ignorant of the law and shoved into a corner of the Florida prison system

  Henry never questioned anyone

  did not know he had a right to appeal

  no one told him about the parole process

  The first fortunate thing in his life happened

  when a new prison superintendent reviewed the records

  saw that the end of Henry’s term was several days past

  Given the civil rights climate in Florida in 1957

  the superintendent very quietly processed the release paperwork

  glad no one noticed

  Henry used the pocket money to buy a bus ticket

  from Raiford to Titusville and that suited him fine

  because he knew the grove owners were hiring labor to pick oranges

  He would save money make small purchases and gradually build a life

  that would surprise anyone taken by his appearance and manner

  He bought a small flat-bottom boat sturdy and watertight

  the paint was peeling

  The small motor was greasy and showed rust

  but it was reliable

  A seafood restaurant in a stand of Australian Pine trees

  on the east shore of the river

  bought the crabs oysters and shrimp Henry pulled from the river

  The restaurant was barely more than a covered picnic area

  with wooden benches tables and a stone pit

  used to steam shellfish and smoke mullet

  Wood siding that resembled a fence more than a wall

  barely kept gnats and mosquitoes out at night

  Kerosene lanterns provided light

  Ten extra dollars a week

  (smell)

  I was distant with my brother Frank

  maybe it was just the difference I felt between us

  I cannot see the world through his eyes

  My sight is grafted on in silence

  like a sentinel I stood between Frank and Dad

  Mom picked me up headed to the bathroom

  Dad stood outside the door

  Christ he’s old enough to wash himself you spoil him Claire

  She washed me in silence

  Water in the tub had a slick of malathion peppered with black dust

  the soap bubbles black

  Outside the door I heard

  Do you think you can spy on me and get away with it

  I waited for the blows to beat down on Frank

  The words were the clue to the battle at home

  Dad’s blonde hair

  fixed in place

  his sunglasses tilted

  When Grandpa William came over that night they talked in the study

  Frank and I sat at the top of the stairs where we could hear

  and see them from the shoulders down

  Grandpa William took off his tie

  tore the top button off his shirt

  They talked town politics

  who would get elected

  who they would give money

  They were concerned about the Negroes and how they would vote

  Grandpa William left without saying a word

  he walked straight down the hall and out the front door

  The echo of his steps changed from the porch to the sidewalk

  He disappeared into a dark hole in the night

  The hole swallowed him and the sound

  A short time later Grandpa William died

  Frank asked why Dad beat me

  I told him how the insecticide burned my skin

  especially the skin around my fingernails

  and all the places I have little cuts

  The soap stings too when you try to wash the spray off

  I put my hands under Frank’s nose and he smelled my fingers

  They smell like diesel fuel even after you wash

  I told him I’m never going to work in the groves for Dad

  I can’t stand the smell

  (all wind brushed away)

  The ground under the orange tree looked like the back of my mother’s hands

  gray roots like the blue veins

  brown leaves littered the ground like age spots

  A rope hung from the limbs next to the trunk

  the canopy dropped to a drip line of grass

  The shade cool and still

  wind brushed away by the movement of the leaves

  light dropped like mottled patterns that fluttered through a pinwheel

  onto my brother Frank

  I tied him there and watched him crawl like a dog

  until dirt filled the creases of his elbows and knees

  His neck was rubbed raw by the rope

  He could have left at any time he decided to stand up and pull on the knot

  but he played the animal to prove to me he was capable

  I started to laugh and laughed until my eyes turned red with fear

  his growls were like an angry cry

  I cried with him

  my anger kindled by the diesel oil mixed with the dust of gray sand

  Was
he reminded like me

  Was he angry

  I saw his fatigue and I sat down next to him

  to look out at the world beyond the leaves

  The white house on one side

  stacked tires

  wood pallets

  the yellow painted engine of a tractor blackened by soot and sand

  The underside of the leaves

  filled with the larvae of white scale

  ready to suck the sap out of the leaves

  Aphids crawled on every new green stem

  Along the trunk small branches had died

  Knots formed and green tissue grew over the wounds

  I looked at my skin brown wet with sweat

  and tried to imagine my wounds healing over scars

  to become smooth and soft as day old leaves

  (parallel)

  Alan took me to a black bar

  north of Titusville

  and left me in the backseat

  Before he went inside he told me

  he did it to intimidate the niggers

  He was not afraid of them

  they needed him

  he said no one else would hire them

  After an hour Alan came out

  with a black woman and they stood outside the car

  Alan held her hands behind her back

  She asked him to stop

  but he pushed her up against the car

  I slid across the back seat

  to move away

  I found myself staring into two eyes

  of a young girl

  Her hair was pulled back tight

  in a way that made her face round

  She was sad and never made a sound

  Alan walked back to the bar with the woman

  The girl walked between the cars

  just behind Alan

  The woman rubbed her neck

  with her head tilted forward

  She glanced over at the girl

  and held her finger up to her mouth

  (papers)

  I sat in a long meditation on the chair opposite his desk

  stared at the pile of papers

  swung my legs

  ran around the room

  angry that I had to sit still and wait

  My arms like wings hit the pile of papers

  and they fell on the floor

  slid under the desk

  the chair

  Alan erupted from his seat

  more papers flew

  I dropped on my knees to pick them up

  stacked them on the corner of the desk

  took one slip

  looked at the numbers

  stuffed it in my pocket and sat

  while the white demon roamed through the room

  cursed at me

  turned red in the cheeks

  loosened the collar to his shirt

  sat down with the uneven pile on his lap

  to sort the papers one by one

  two hours

  through shuffled stacked clipped papers

  more anxious a second time

  a third time the red face returned

  without sound

  He stared at me

  went out to get one of the bank tellers

  They both looked carefully

  Is that all the deposit slips was the question

  Eventually