By Sarah Gilmore
Herman looked in the mirror
And saw the dead
Looking at him from the trees
Rope around their necks
Swinging them like fruit
Bitter juice dripping from their bulging eyes
Onto the leaves
Strange fruit
Rotting in the southern heat
Herman looked in the mirror
When others saw glass
He saw ghosts
That whispered his own eulogy
So he ran like the wind
To the coast
Where they couldn’t swim
And painted the porch of his pain haint blue
Holding the spirits at the door
While he sung their song
To his brood
A lesson to fear white faces
That will choke
and drown you
Voices 