Lucy Tillman came to sleep
In our plunder room
After working all day for
Cousins Frank and Viola
Who had steam heat
And a refrigerator
That made ice cubes.
But Lucy preferred our house
Which she knew to be quiet at night.
Cousin Viola was volatile and Cousin Frank was
Dying of athlete’s heart,
But they gave each other no quarter
And never bothered to keep their voices down.
Lucy liked the respectable dullness
Of our fireplace, the religious coldness of
Unheated bedrooms.
Every morning when Lucy left us
To return to the luxury of her workplace, she never failed to say,
“I’ll see you tonight if I live and nothing happens.”
Nothing happened.
Cousin Frank died first,
Then Lucy, who refused medical treatment.
And volatile to the end, Viola went.
[Undated poem by Virginia McKinnon Mann. I don’t know if this is fiction or not, but the end is very mysterious. What happened to Lucy?]
It isn't fiction, at least not entirely. There was a black maid who worked for some other people in Wadesboro but she came and slept at Grandma's house every night because she liked it better there. I'm not sure if the names have been changed or not, and I don't recall her mentioning that the people were cousins of ours.
ReplyDeleteGood to know!
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