Selma, Alabama 1936
On A Black and White Photo by Walker
Evans[1]
the black and white
photo is really two
placed side by side
as if a single shot
of ten black men
arranged before storefronts
stark white sunlight on bricks
darkening the nameless faces
the men appear unafraid
dressed for Sunday
in suits and fedoras
though one seated man’s
face is masked by the
slanted brim of his hat
chair tipped back
feet dangling--
hanging above him
a suit with a white note or tag
pinned to the chest
we can’t read the price
we need a stronger lens
to see Jimmy Lee Jackson[2]
in 1965
unarmed and gut shot
by an Alabama State Trooper
to see the Edmund Pettus Bridge
bloodied on another Selma Sunday
protesters steeled by
Jimmy Lee’s murder
by King’s eulogy
marching to Montgomery
for voting rights
choked by a haze
of tear gas
bludgeoned broken
by more troopers
We need a stronger lens to see
in sweet home Chicago
a white crowd singing
Oh I wish I were
an Alabama Trooper
that is what I’d really like to be
for if I were an Alabama Trooper
I could kill a nigger legally[3]
in 1936
on this day of rest
violence does not enter
the aperture of Evans’ camera
still the viewer feels it stirring
in shadows beyond the margins
of black and white joined
photos
this artful moment
free
from a nation’s diseased past
from the
present so poisoned
we do not think to ask
how these black men all
dressed up in Selma lived
only, how did they die?
[1] To see a sample of Evans
acclaimed photos, including the subject of the poem, go to
http://www.nytimes.com/
[2] Jackson was 28, an army vet and a preacher. He, his mother, and grandfather were part of a peaceful protest in nearby Marion. He was trying to protect his mother and grandfather, who were being beaten after seeking safety in a cafe. In 2010 the trooper who killed Lee, Roger Bonnard Fowler, was convicted of manslaughter and was jailed for 5 months before being released for health reasons. He died July 7, 2015--50 years after Jackson was buried in a cemetery with former slaves.
[3] In August of 1966, an open housing march led by Reverend King was confronted by whites in Chicago’s Marquette Park, some of whom sang these lyrics to the tune of a popular Oscar Mayer jingle.
http://www.nytimes.com/
[2] Jackson was 28, an army vet and a preacher. He, his mother, and grandfather were part of a peaceful protest in nearby Marion. He was trying to protect his mother and grandfather, who were being beaten after seeking safety in a cafe. In 2010 the trooper who killed Lee, Roger Bonnard Fowler, was convicted of manslaughter and was jailed for 5 months before being released for health reasons. He died July 7, 2015--50 years after Jackson was buried in a cemetery with former slaves.
[3] In August of 1966, an open housing march led by Reverend King was confronted by whites in Chicago’s Marquette Park, some of whom sang these lyrics to the tune of a popular Oscar Mayer jingle.
Stephen Granzyk
Stephen Granzyk is a retired English teacher who lives
and writes poetry in Chicago. His poems have appeared in English Journal and
Blacklight, a publication of the Organization of Black Students at the
University of Chicago.
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Poetry