breach
by Matthew E. Henry
God bless the woman floating on a 3’x 3’ pallet of gopher wood. Black and naked and pole fording the lung-deep Mississippi waters surging her home once the primordial levees let loose. once the fountains of The Deep and the windows of heaven were overcome, began snuffing the nostrils of all flesh creeping too slowly upon the earth. a woman with all things arked upon her head:
an oak barrel, a metal basin, a washboard, a suitcase and two steamer trunks, a garden pail, a table, a chair, an old iron, a whisk broom, a whiskey jug, a silver-backed hand mirror, books, a lantern, a length of rope, and surely some twine, needle, thread, the family Bible and photo albums enough to mend the lashes carved into her chest, back, arms, and legs as she pulls toward abatement or Ararat, in 1927 or 2005.
After the Alison Saar sculpture by the same name. Wood, ceiling tin, found trunks, washtubs, and other objects, 2016
Matthew E. Henry (MEH) is the author of six poetry collections, most recently said the Frog to the scorpion. He is editor-in-chief of The Weight Journal and an associate editor at Rise Up Review. The 2023 winner of the Solstice Literary Magazine Stephen Dunn Prize, MEH’s poetry appears in The Florida Review, Massachusetts Review, Ninth Letter, Ploughshares, Shenandoah, and The Worcester Review among others. MEH is an educator who can be found at www.MEHPoeting.com writing about education, race, religion, and burning oppressive systems to the ground.