Ethel
Waters (October 31, 1896 – September 1, 1977)
Look
at the sun. Pouring. Through the branches of that tree. Like Ethel.
Dragged around like a rag doll. Through the swamp. The smell of giant
tupelo and bald cypress. At
13. Ethel was given away. Like a second hand kitchen chair. To a
big barrel of a man. Ass three blocks wide. F***ed her for fun. Beat
her when he got bored. He left. She was left. To fend for herself.
Sometimes it seems. You don't recognize love. Until its gone.
President
Truman increased. The minimum wage. From 40 cents to 75. J Edgar
Hoover gave Shirley Temple. A tear gas fountain pen. Ethel was
jealous. Her lover cheated. With heroin. And left her early one morn.
He went to Europe to find his soul. Ethel went to San Francisco. The
best things in life should be put on a list. And number one.
Happiness is a fist.
Ethel
worked as a maid. 9
until unconsciousness.
Sang in whorehouses. The smell of semen. And stale beer. And late
night confessions. Worked the black vaudeville circuit. Mostly for
food and gange. Found Jesus. Hanging in a big tent. Next to a trailer
park. Oh how she envied the Catholics. Who could forget about all
their sins. And laugh at the son tumbling out of his tree.
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