Keith Moul

Reconstruction, a Conversation

Yes, slavery days discharged the stink of black sweat,

life on the block, available to my touch before buying.

And such delightful entertainment, fruit of prerogative.

I tingle at the thought, whether female or male.  Surely

we had dollars at stake and depletion by inordinate heat.

I’m no historian, we lose truth's angle, how heartstrings

quaver as our comforts, even reputation, may be ruined.

Also, the war.  Your name cropped up at cards last night.

Keith Moul © 2019