Reflections

In the day’s mirror you see a tall black man. Fingers of gold cattail tremble, then you witness the rope dangling from a limb of white oak. It’s come to this. You yell his direction, the wind taking your voice away. You holler his mama’s name & he glances up at the red sky. You can almost touch what he’s thinking, reaching for his hand across the river. The noose pendulous over his head, you can feel him grow inside you, straining to hoist himself, climbing a ladder of air, your feet in his shoes.