She,

When photographed with her second son,
another of those bright, angry runts,
held him the way she held her face:

like stone. He later said: "My daddy liked
partying. To raise money for these events,
he would send his sons to clear land,

slash elderberries, cut pokeweed, and burn
poison ivy by the week, trying to keep
upwind. We would plant sweet potato slips,

hoe, hill, and weed, and carry summer water.
He'd watch from the cool pine's shade,
then chase us off and carry away the harvest

to trade for Early's whiskey in Powder Springs.
That crop would last one moonlit night.
He was strong enough to enforce such dealings,

yet she did one day set his bag by the open gate,
with his hat, his pipe, two dollars and a nickel change.
He knew right then he'd not be coming back."